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THE  LYCIAN  SARCOPHAGUS 


IN  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM. 


DISCOURSES 


ON 

ARCHITECTURE. 


BY 


EUGÈNE  EMMANUEL  VIOLLET-LE-DUC, 

Architect, 

AUTHOR  OF  “THE  DICTIONARY  OF  ARCHITECTURE,”  “THE  STORY  OF  A HOUSE,”  “ANNALS  OF 
A FORTRESS,”  “ MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DEFENCE  OF  PARIS,” 

ETC.,  ETC. 


TRANSLATED,  WITH  AN  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY, 

BY 


HENRY  VAN  BRUNT, 

FELLOW  AMERICAN  INSTITUTE  OF  ARCHITECTS. 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PLATES  AND  WOODCUTS. 


BOSTON: 


JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  AND  COMPANY, 

Late  Ticknok  & Fields,  and  Fields,  Osgood,  & Co. 


1 8 7 5. 


Copyright,  1875. 

By  JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  & CO. 


THE  BETTY  CEUTi* 

UishM^ 


INTRODUCTION 

BY  TIIE  TRANSLATOR. 


UGÈNE-EMMANUEL  VIOLLET-LE-DUC,  bom  in 
Paris  in  the  year  1814,  a diligent  student  of  art,  a 
learned  archaeologist,  and  an  architect  of  experience, 
published  in  the  year  1S63  a work  entitled  Entretiens 
sur  V Architecture.  In  the  year  1873  a second  and 

concluding  volume  appeared.  The  first  volume,  relat- 
ing more  especially  to  the  theory  of  architecture,  is  now  presented  to  the 
public  of  this  country  in  an  English  dress.  Its  peculiar  claim  to  attention 
consists  in  the  fact  that  its  argument  is  an  appeal  to  philosophical  analysis 
against  the  tyranny  of  tradition  and  usage  in  matters  of  architectural  design. 
“ I am  convinced,”  the  author  says,  “ that  we  can  bring  the  taste  of  this 
generation  to  perfection  by  making  it  reason.” 

It  would  seem  that  such  an  argument  would  be  most  properly  addressed 
to  some  nation  possessing  the  desire  and  means  to  build  monumentally,  but 
destitute  of  that  natural  love  and  appreciation  of  art  which  would  develop 
ideas  of  especial  grace  and  fitness  in  its  works,  and  enable  it  to  take  due 
rank  in  the  history  of  civilization.  To  publish  such  an  appeal  in  the  very 
capital  of  civilization,  where,  ever  since  the  Renaissance,  the  public  mind 
has  been  constantly  occupied  by  questions  of  art,  and  has  diligently  searched 
for  the  ideal  of  beauty  by  every  path  of  practice  and  theory,  would  seem 
to  be  a most  superfluous  return  to  first  principles.  But  the  author  begs  the 
chief  architects  of  the  Latin  race  and  the  students  who  crowd  their  ateliers 
to  review  their  knowledge  of  the  architecture  of  the  past,  to  ascertain  if 
they  have  not  lost  their  way  in  the  midst  of  dogmas,  commonplaces,  and 
formulas,  and  if  it  is  not  worth  while  to  begin  to  think  again.  He  professes 


IV 


INTRODUCTION. 


to  attack  ancient  abuses  and  professional  errors  made  academical  in  the 
instructions  of  the  great  art  schools  of  the  capital  and  perpetuated  in  the 
modern  architecture  of  France.  In  the  midst  of  his  polemic,  the  eagerness 
of  his  appeals  to  reason,  his  constant  return  to  the  practical  conditions  of 
structure  as  the  true  basis  of  design,  may  well  attract  attention.  If  the 
characteristic  and  deliberate  architectural  expression  of  French  civilization, 
which  is  admired  and  imitated  in  every  city  of  Christendom,  is  open  to 
criticism  such  as  this,  it  is  high  time  for  us  to  analyze  the  sources  of  our 
admiration,  to  enter  upon  a logical  examination  of  architecture,  and  to  learn 
at  last  whether  there  is  an  absolute  right  and  an  absolute  wrong  in  this 
region  of  aesthetics,  and  whether  taste  or  artistic  feeling,  or  whatever  the 
quality  may  be  called  which  concerns  itself  with  this  expression  of  the  human 
mind,  can  discriminate  between  them.  Such  an  inquiry  is  not  for  architects 
alone,  but  for  every  man  who  is  interested  in  questions  affecting  the  uses  of 
art  in  life.  If  architecture,  in  its  good  estate,  is  an  art  amenable  to 
laws,  and  not  a mere  body  of  arbitrary  formulas,  — if  all  the  phases  of  its 
proper  development  can  be  analyzed  and  explained  by  whatever  process  of 
reasoning,  — every  layman  should  be  capable  of  an  intelligent  appreciation 
and  enjoyment  of  it  without  a course  of  technical  study,  and  the  architect 
could  no  longer  cover  his  errors  of  ignorance,  carelessness,  or  haste  behind 
his  specious  shield  of  conventionality. 

In  order  as  nearly  as  possible  to  give  the  American  reader  an  impartial 
stand-point  from  which  he  may  intelligently  survey  this  field,  it  is  important 
to  glance  briefly  at  the  present  state  of  architecture,  — more  especially  in 
France,  — and  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  under  what  impulse  or  inspiration  it 
has  developed  in  the  direction  of  the  Louvre,  the  Hôtel  de  Aille,  the  New 
Opera,  and  the  other  familiar  and  characteristic  monuments  of  French  taste. 
Thus  we  may  see  in  what  an  atmosphere  and  under  what  especial  con- 
ditions these  Discourses  were  prepared,  and  make  due  allowance  for  their 
peculiarities  of  temper  and  tone. 

M.  Viollet-le-Duc  in  the  following  pages  has  sufficiently  set  forth  the  his- 
torical conditions  under  which,  in  the  time  of  Louis  XII.  and  Francis  I., 
classic  forms  supplanted  mediaeval  forms  on  the  soil  of  France.  The 
question  with  which  we  are  immediately  concerned  is  how  this  fruitful 
derivative  of  Roman  art  has  maintained  its  footing,  and  how  it  has  con- 
tinued its  consistent  development,  in  the  midst  of  enormous  social  and  po- 
litical revolutions,  and  notwithstanding  the  love  of  change  and  fashion  which 
is  certainly  a leading  peculiarity  of  this  people. 


INTRODUCTION. 


v 


The  French  Academy  of  Painting  and  Sculpture  was  founded  in  1048  ; 
that  of  Architecture,  in  1671.  The  modern  École  des  Beaux  Arts  is  a 
direct  descendant  from  these  official  schools;  it  has  inherited  all  their  col- 
lections, and  in  it  are  merged  all  their  traditions  of  theory  and  practice. 
It  is  in  the  department  of  the  Minister  of  Fine  Arts,  and  is  governed  by 
a director  appointed  by  the  minister  for  five  years  ; the  administration  in- 
cludes a secretary,  a treasurer,  a librarian,  and  a custodian  of  the  museum. 
This  bureau  is  assisted  by  a council  of  instruction,  composed  of  certain 
officials  of  state,  two  painters,  two  sculptors,  two  architects,  an  engraver 
or  medallist,  and  five  others.  New  members  are  elected  to  this  council 
every  year,  replacing  old  members,  who  retire  in  turn.  But  old  members 
are  eligible  for  re-election,  and  practically  the  council  has  the  power  of 
filling  its  own  vacancies.  This  important  council  has  thus  for  a century 
been  adapted  naturally  to  the  preservation  of  whatever  inheritance  of  style 
and  practice  should  be  perpetuated  for  use  in  the  great  monuments  of  state, 
according  to  the  traditions  and  prejudices  of  the  school.  The  curriculum 
undertakes  to  embrace  all  branches  of  theory  and  practice.  The  theoretical 
studies  comprehend  aesthetics,  the  history  of  art,  the  elements  of  anatomy, 
perspective,  geometry,  mathematics,  geology,  physics,  chemistry,  archaeology, 
construction,  and  the  administration  of  works.  Practical  instruction  in 
drawing  and  design  is  given  in  the  seven  official  ateliers  of  the  school, 
three  of  these  being  devoted  to  architecture,  and  each  being  under  the 
charge  of  a director.  The  whole  is  enshrined  in  a superb  Palace,  con- 
structed for  the  accommodation  of  the  school,  and  filled  with  precious 
objects  of  art  and  every  appliance  which  can  inform  and  inspire  the  mind. 

Public  interest  is  periodically  attracted  to  the  school  by  the  annual  com- 
petition for  the  “ grand  prize  of  Rome.”  This  is  open  to  any  Frenchman 
under  twenty-five  years  of  age,  whether  a member  of  the  school  or  not,  who 
shall  have  been  successful  in  two  preliminary  and  stated  competitions.  For 
architects,  sculptors,  and  painters,  the  grand  competition  is  annual  ; for  en- 
gravers on  copper,  every  second  year  ; for  engravers  on  precious  stones, 
every  third  year.  One  grand  prize  is  given  to  each  branch  of  art.  The 
successful  competitors  ( lauréats ) are  maintained  at  the  public  expense  for 
four  years,  at  least  two  of  which  must  be  spent  at  the  Academy  of 
France  at  Rome  (in  the  Villa  Medici,  purchased  for  the  purpose  by  Louis 
XIA.),  under  the  control  of  a director,  who  is  responsible  to  government 
tor  the  progress  of  their  studies.  In  witness  of  this  progress,  each  lauréat, 
during  his  stay  at  Rome,  sends  to  the  school  at  Paris  a work  of  sculpture, 


VI 


INTRODUCTION. 


painting,  or  an  architectural  composition.  The  remaining  two  years  may  be 
spent  in  travel,  at  the  discretion  of  each  lauréat,  he  previously  having 
reported  his  intentions  to  the  authorities.  At  Rome  the  architectural  student 
usually  devotes  himself  to  measuring  and  restoring  the  antique. 

Outside  of  the  school  proper,  the  principal  architects  of  Paris,  assuming 
functions  as  patrons,  have  their  ateliers  filled  with  students,  who,  with  more  or 
less  regularity,  attend  the  lectures  of  the  school,  but  have  their  greatest  inter- 
est engaged  in  a series  of  stated  competitions  ( concours ) based  upon  pro- 
grammes officially  prepared  and  announced.  These  competitions  are  decided 
by  juries  largely  composed  of  architects  not  officially  connected  with  the 
faculty  of  instruction,  and  culminate  in  the  two  great  annual  competitions  pre- 
liminary to  the  final  struggle  for  the  grand  prize  of  Rome. 

All  this  machinery  tends  directly  to  the  creation  and  prevalence  of  a style 
of  architecture  peculiarly  academical,  and  which,  considering  the  atmosphere 
of  emulation  in  which  it  has  grown  and  its  extraordinary  fidelity  to  a com- 
paratively narrow  range  of  precedent  and  study,  must  necessarily  be  carried  to 
the  highest  degree  of  technical  perfection.  This  style,  first  made  national  by 
the  châteaux  of  Pierre  Lescot,  Philibert  Delorme,  Jean  Bullant,  and  the  other 
Trench  architects  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  and  afterwards 
giving  expression,  with  peculiar  felicity,  to  the  pomp  of  that  great  builder, 
Louis  XIV.,  is  of  cotirse  a form  of  the  Renaissance. 

The  council  of  the  school,  loyal  to  the  exclusive  traditions  of  the  place,  is 
content  to  keep  this  national  inheritance  pure  from  foreign  alloy  and  free  from 
any  rivalry  or  distractions  of  mediævalism.  The  architects  of  Paris,  who 
desire  official  patronage  and  decoration;  the  students,  who  rejoice  in  the  superb 
emulation  and  national  distinction  of  the  grand  prize  ; the  multitude,  who  are 
proud  of  their  great  historical  monuments,  — all,  under  these  inspirations,  cling 
to  the  academic  style,  and  recognize  no  other.  Within  the  shadow  of  Notre 
Dame  and  of  the  Sainte  Chapelle,  they  are  intolerant  of  any  nearer  approach 
to  the  pointed  arch  than  the  conventional  use  in  their  ecclesiastical  buildings 
of  the  round-arched  Romanesque  of  the  twelfth  century  and  of  such  other 
Byzantine  elements  as  can  be  adapted  to  modern  means  and  necessities. 

Until  lately  even  Greek  influences  have  been  admitted  with  jealousy.  M. 
Henri  Labrouste,  a lauréat  of  Rome  in  the  year  1824,  studied  the  monuments 
of  the  Greek  colonies,  and  sent  home,  as  his  official  contribution  to  the 
school,  a correct  restoration  of  a Greek  Doric  temple.  M.  Joseph  Louis  Due, 
a lauréat  of  the  following  year,  and  immediately  afterwards  M.  Duban  and 
M.  Vaudoyer,  pursued  their  studies  in  Italy  in  the  same  direction  with  intelli- 


INTRODUCTION. 


vu 


gent  enthusiasm,  and  brought  back  to  France  prolific  seeds  of  Greek  sentiment. 
This  sentiment  afterwards  took  form  in  what  was  known  a few  years  ago  in 
Paris  as  “ the  Romantic  School,”  which  consisted  in  the  admission  of  a larger 
scope  of  invention  and  in  the  refinement  of  architectural  forms  by  somewhat  of 
the  Greek  feeling  for  purity  and  elegance  of  line.  It  was  rather  a Renaissance 
of  Greek  expressions  than  of  Greek  principles,  and,  owing  to  the  facility 
with  which  even  caprices  could  assume  an  air  of  studious  elegance  under  this 
treatment,  it  became  so  popular  and  so  well  suited  to  French  taste,  that,  after 
the  construction  of  the  Library  of  St.  Genevieve  by  M.  Labrouste,  the  prej- 
udices of  the  Academy  were  overcome,  and  it  became  an  essential  element 
of  French  architecture. 

Meanwhile,  in  this  uncongenial  atmosphere,  the  Gothic  or  mediaeval  school 
received  its  chief  encouragement  from  the  archaeological  spirit  ; and  M.  Lassus 
and  M.  Yiollet-le-Duc  became  engaged,  not  in  the  legitimate  and  practical 
development  of  their  theories  of  art,  but  in  the  restoration  of  the  Gothic 
monuments  of  France. 

The  academic  style  of  Paris  has  thus  enjoyed  the  unprecedented  advantage 
of  an  undisturbed  growth  of  four  hundred  years  in  the  hands  of  the  wealth- 
iest and  most  artistic  people  in  the  world.  They  have  lavished  upon  the 
Roman  orders  and  upon  their  Italian  derivatives  of  the  fifteenth  century  — a 
basis  of  a few  simple  architectural  motifs  — all  the  decoration  and  refinement 
of  nearly  four  centuries  of  industrious  and  consistent  culture.  What  wonder 
if  the  civilized  world  accepts  the  extraordinary  result  with  admiration  ? Else- 
where, it  may  be  said,  architecture  has  suffered  from  anarchy  ; here  is  what 
may  be  accomplished  by  the  vigorous  administration  of  art.  Why  ask  for  it 
the  blessing  of  perfect  freedom,  when  discipline  can  achieve  such  triumphs  ? 
If  all  this  is  wrong,  where  shall  we  look  for  the  right  ? Who  shall  tell  us 
how  we  can  develop  good  architecture  ? Who,  in  short,  shall  interpret  for  us 
the  architectural  myth  ? 

There  has  hitherto  been  such  a mystery  about  the  practice  of  architec- 
ture, such  an  unexplained  accumulation  of  formulas  and  rules,  such  peremp- 
tory exclusions  on  the  one  part,  such  affectations  of  lawlessness  and  caprice 
on  the  other,  such  a "warfare  between  the  picturesque  and  the  symmetrical, 
that  the  theory  of  architecture  has  gone  begging  for  a rational  exposition. 
Literary  enterprise  both  in  France  and  England  has  occupied  this  tempting 
field  of  speculation  with  more  or  less  of  dogmatic  assertion.  In  France  the 
æsthetic  faculty  is  by  birth  and  growth  so  diffused,  that  criticism  in  the  hands 
of  Quatrèinere  de  Quincy  and  other  men  of  letters  has  been  kept  in  a work- 


vin 


INTRODUCTION. 


manlike  track,  and  has  done  its  work  with  comparative  modesty  and  efficiency. 
But  in  England,  to  use  the  words  of  a late  writer  in  the  “North  American 
Review,”  “ since  Mr.  Ruskin  set  the  example  of  a literary  man  erecting  him- 
self into  a dictator  on  questions  of  art,  we  have  been  subjected  to  a fearful 
tyranny  in  æsthelics.  It  is  true  that  no  one  else  has  carried  matters  so  far  nor 
with  so  high  a hand,  but  there  are  innumerable  petty  despots  laying  down  the 
laws  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful,  who  only  lack  the  ability  to  be  as  peremp- 
tory, as  arbitrary,  and  as  paradoxical  as  lie.”  Thus,  in  the  absence  of  a natural 
appreciation  in  regard  to  art  and  taste,  the  literary  view  of  the  theory  of  archi- 
tecture has  with  us  absorbed  popular  attention  and  moulded  popular  opinion. 
As  for  the  architects,  they  have,  with  few  exceptions,  addressed  no  word  of  expla- 
nation to  the  public,  and  the  speculators  have  had  the  field  to  themselves  ; in- 
deed, in  this  country  and  in  England  certainly,  the  art  itself  for  the  last  twenty 
years  has  been  affected  rather  by  prejudices  based  upon  the  literary  exposition 
of  the  question  than  by  convictions  founded  upon  practical  knowledge, — rather, 
in  short,  by  sentiment  than  by  reason.  Since  the  publication  of  the  “ Seven 
Lamps  of  Architecture”  and  the  “ Stones  of  Venice,”  the  characteristic  expres- 
sion of  English  architecture  has  been  obviously  colored  by  the  mediaeval  monu- 
ments of  Northern  Italy.  Many  conspicuous  structures  have  been  directly 
inspired  by  these  examples.  The  Manchester  Assize  Courts,  the  new  Town 
Halls,  most  of  the  designs  for  the  new  Law  Courts  in  London,  would  scarcely 
have  existed  in  their  present  form  but  for  this  predominance  of  letters  in  art. 
It  is  premature  to  declare,  perhaps,  that  these  phenomena  are  evidences  of  more 
than  an  ephemeral  fashion.  M.  Viollet-le-Duc  maintains  in  the  text  (without 
reference,  however,  to  this  phase  of  actual  experience)  that  the  architecture  of 
Northern  Italy  developed  biographies  and  not  history,  and  that  it  can  accord- 
ingly afford  but  little  profitable  instruction.  He  also  elsewhere  very  justly 
remarks  that  a true  Renaissance  has  never  arisen  from  corrupted  types  : “ Only 
primitive  sources  can  furnish  the  energy  for  a long  career.”  But  if,  as  has 
been  asserted  in  some  quarters,  this  adaptation  of  Southern  motifs  in  a North- 
ern architecture  contains  the  elements  of  a just  and  reasonable  progress  to- 
wards a national  style,  this  new  English  Renaissance  exhibits  curious  and 
instructive  contrasts  with  that  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  France;  while  the 
latter  was  the  result  of  warlike  conquests,  and  followed  in  the  footsteps  of 
French  armies  returning  with  captives  and  spoils  from  Italian  cities,  the  former 
lias  come  in  this  nineteenth  century  from  the  same  fountain  of  art  through  the 
peaceful  medium  of  literature  and  critical  exegesis.  However,  we  are  witnesses 
of  a rebellion  taking  place  at  this  moment  in  the  very  strongholds  of  these 


INTRODUCTION. 


IX 


English  mediævalists,  in  the  revival  here  and  there  throughout  England  of 
the  long  square  windows,  the  brick  panels,  the  attenuated  orders,  the  fretted 
and  ornamented  gable  lines  of  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne.  Is  this  an  indica- 
tion of  anarchy,  or  is  it  a healthy  reaction  from  a mere  artificial  excitement  ? 
We  have  noted  the  results  of  the  discipline  of  the  schools  in  France,  in  the 
scholastic  elegance  and  finish  of  their  monuments.  Is  this  picturesque  and 
uneasy  groping  after  a type  in  England  likely  to  result  in  something  nobler 
than  the  façades  of  the  Hôtel  de  Ville  of  Paris  and  of  the  New  Opera  ? 

In  this  condition  of  doubt  we  may  welcome  any  man  of  trained  observa- 
tion and  large  professional  experience,  acquainted  with  the  technicalities 
and  manipulations  of  the  various  crafts  whose  labors  enter  into  the  construc- 
tion of  a building,  — any  architect,  who  is  willing  and  able  to  explain  the 
sources  of  his  convictions.  And  here  at  last  is  a man  who  has  studied, 
measured,  analyzed,  and  drawn  Greek  and  Roman  monuments  in  Italy  and 
the  Greek  colonies,  certainly  with  singular  fidelity  and  intelligence  ; who 
has  rebuilt  and  completed  the  great  Gothic  chateau  of  Pierre  fonds,  built 
the  town-halls  of  Narbonne  and  St.  Antonin,  restored  numerous  churches, 
constructed  the  flèche  and  sacristy  of  the  Cathedral  of  Paris  ; repaired  the 
fortifications  of  Carcassonne  ; architect  of  the  works  on  the  cathedrals  of 
Laon,  Sens,  and  Amiens,  and  the  abbeys  of  St.  Denis  and  Vézelay  ; author 
of  the  exhaustive  Dictionnaire  Raisonné  de  V Architecture  Française,  du, 
Xe  au  XI F Siècles,  and  other  works  of  large  research.  Thus  equipped, 
M.  Viollet-le-Duc  appears  upon  the  scene,  and  endeavors  to  set  forth  the 
true  sources  of  design  ; how  best  to  analyze,  classify,  and  use  the  enor- 
mous accumulation  of  precedents  m all  styles,  by  which  we  are  so  seriously 
embarrassed  ; how  to  receive  the  developments  of  modern  science  in  the  arts 
of  construction,  and  how  to  give  them  place  and  due  expression  in  our 
modern  architecture  ; how  to  subject  all  our  fancies,  impressions,  and 
prejudices  to  rigid  philosophical  investigation,  and  how  thus  to  create  new 
things  fairly  representative  of  the  spirit  of  modern  civilization,  if  not  the 
new  style  for  which  literary  criticism  is  constantly  clamoring.  We  do  not 
mean  to  assert  that  M.  Viollet-le-Duc  has  succeeded  in  all  these  things,  but 
we  think  it  important  to  give  a new  publicity  to  this  honest  and  earnest 
effort,  and  to  place  it  side  by  side  with  similar  essays  of  literary  men  and 
amateurs,  that  it  may  do  its  work  with  theirs. 

It  will  be  observed,  as  a characteristic  of  his  argument,  and  as  a reassnr- 
ing fact  to  the  professional  reader,  that  at  every  step  the  allurements  of 
mere  sentiment,  so  irresistible  to  the  layman,  are  distrusted,  and  that  the 


X 


INTRODUCTION. 


premises  of  every  conclusion  claim  to  be  practical  facts  in  the  arts  of  build- 
ing. It  is  admitted,  of  course,  that  he  starts  with  a strong  professional 
bias  in  opposition  to  the  practice  of  architecture  as  carried  on  under  the 
inspiration  of  the  School  of  Fine  Arts,  and  with  a zealous  admiration  of  the 
principles  both  of  Greek  and  of  mediæval  art  ; but  if  his  argument  is  logical, 
his  appreciation  of  the  great  historical  and  contrasting  styles  reasonably  dis- 
criminating and  just,  and  his  field  of  observation  large  and  well  occupied, 
we  may  well  pardon  the  bias  for  the  sake  of  his  contributions  to  knowledge 
and  the  picturesque  contrasts  of  his  historical  retrospect.  Convictions  based 
upon  practical  knowledge,  gained  from^experience  and  observation,  even  if 
involving  some  professional  bias  or  one-sidedness,  are  at  least  worthy  of 
comparison  ■with  theories  evolved  in  the  literary  manner  and  subject  to  the 
literary  temptations  of  arbitrary  statement  and  sweeping  generalizations. 

We  Americans  occupy  a new  country,  having  no  inheritance  of  ruins  and 
no  embarrassments  of  tradition  in  matters  of  architecture  ; we  are  absolutely 
free  from  historical  prejudice  ; and  yet  with  our  great  future  we  have  a con- 
stant and  growing  necessity  to  make  of  architecture  a living  and  growing 
art  ; we  may  therefore  be  in  a position  peculiarly  well  adapted  to  appre- 
ciate at  its  just  value  any  honest  and  earnest  effort  to  give  this  art  true 
development  according  to  modern  necessities.  The  great  range  of  architec- 
tural precedents  at  no  point  touches  our  local  domain  or  concerns  our  national 
pride.  We  are  so  far  removed  from  such  entanglements,  that  we  alone  of 
all  civilized  people  may  be  said  to  occupy  a position  of  judicial  impartiality, 
and  perhaps  to  us,  therefore,  with  our  obviously  great  material  resources,  may 
be  intrusted  the  duty  of  finding  a new  solution  of  the  architectural  prob- 
lem. If  this  be  our  great  function,  let  us  be  worthy  of  it  ; let  us  prepare 
ourselves,  whether  as  architects  or  critics,  by  understanding  our  duties. 

But  why,  it  may  be  asked,  being  so  free  and  untrammelled,  may  we  not 
break  off  from  the  past  entirely  and  create  a new  American  architecture,  — 
why  not  begin  afresh  ? To  this,  of  course,  there  can  be  but  one  intelligent 
reply.  All  the  past  is  ours  ; books,  engravings,  photographs,  have  so  mul- 
tiplied, that  at  any  moment  we  can  turn  to  and  examine  the  architectural 
achievements  of  any  age  or  nation.  These  suggestions  of  beauty  and  use 
are  always  with  us.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  most  essential  dis- 
tinction between  the  arts  of  primitive  barbarism  and  those  of  civilization  is 
that,  while  the  former  are  original  and  independent,  and  consequently  simple, 
the  latter  must  be  retrospective,  naturally  turning  to  tradition  and  prece- 
dent, and  are  therefore  complex.  A beginning  once  made  by  primitive  dis- 


INTRODUCTION. 


xi 


covery  and  experiment,  art,  like  nature,  must  thenceforward  proceed  by 
derivation  and  development  ; and  where  architectural  monuments  and  tradi- 
tions have  accumulated  to  the  vast  extent  that  they  have  in  modern  times, 
the  question  is  not  whether  we  shall  use  them  at  all,  but  how  shall  we  choose 
amoinr  them,  and  to  what  extent  shall  such  choice  be  allowed  to  inlluence 
our  modern  practice. 

It  is  not  to  be  inferred  that  the  “ hope  of  modern  architecture  ” — to 
use  the  imposing  phraseology  of  the  latest  petty  tyrant  of  art  — resides  in 
the  library  of  the  antiquary.  Ilis  researches  among  the  architectural  char- 
acteristics of  'nations  are  made  in  an  entirely  different  spirit  from  those  of 
the  architect.  The  former  seeks  among  the  monuments  of  the  past  for 
illustrations  and  vouchers  in  his  historical  studies,  and,  by  curious  analysis 
and  patient  comparison,  to  place  before  us  in  all  their  minute  details  such 
restorations  as  shall  enable  those  monuments  to  play  the  part  of  authentic 
archives  of  human  progress.  Ilis  function  is  to  make  out  of  these  the 
complement  and  completion  of  the  political  story  and  of  the  records  of 
princes  and  parties.  He  aims  to  discover  in  tombs,  temples,  cathedrals, 
abbeys,  and  palaces,  in  all  religious  and  civic  structures,  whether  of  pomp 
or  necessity,  deliberate  and  unconscious  expressions  of  the  prevailing  senti- 
ments, the  social  and  political  condition  of  the  people  in  any  given  time. 
But  such  studies  do  not  make  architects  nor  affect  architecture  further 
than  to  create  such  a spirit  of  imitation,  and,  with  it,  such  a mania  for 
absolute  “ correctness  ” and  such  an  abject  fear  of  anachronism,  as  in  Eng- 
land, during  the  early  part  of  this  century  and  up  to  within  twenty  years 
perhaps,  bound  the  art  hand  and  foot,  and  proved  a stumbling-block  in 
the  path  of  its  progress.  The  architect  has  felt  himself  called  upon  to 
make  arbitrary  selection  of  the  “ style  ” in  which  he  would  design  his 
building,  and  to  be  “ correct  ” in  his  archaeological  reproduction  of  its  mi- 
nutest details,  leaving  little  room  for  the  free  spirit  of  invention,  and  no 
opportunity  for  the  honest  adaptation  of  his  work  to  the  new  social  and 
material  conditions  constantly  pressed  upon  him  in  the  advance  of  knowl- 
edge. If  his  work  was  in  “ Early  English,”  lie  must  anxiously  consult  his 
authorities,  lest  some  characteristic  detail  of  an  earlier  or  later  period 
should  find  its  way  into  his  design  and  ruin  his  reputation.  Under  the 
pressure  of  this  widely  prevailing  spirit  of  antiquarianism,  Sir  Charles 
Barry  was  constrained  to  meet  the  exceedingly  complicated  requirements  of 
the  new  Houses  of  Parliament  with  a masquerade  of  obsolete  architecture 
of  the  time  of  Henry  VII.  * 


INTRODUCTION. 


xii 


Are  we  then,  on  the  other  hand,  to  find  the  true  architect  in  “ the  master- 
workman,”  as  the  Quarterly  Reviewer  would  have  it,  — in  the  man  who  knows 
nothing  of  archaeology  and  who  cares  less  ? In  the  beginning  of  things,  when 
the  needs  of  mankind  were  simple  and  their  resources  of  knowledge  and  expe- 
rience comparatively  small,  the  master-workman  had  his  day.  He  developed 
his  primitive  forms  directly  and  honestly  from  practical  necessity; 

“ He  builded  better  than  he  knew, 

The  conscious  stone  to  beauty  grew.” 


His  successors,  unembarrassed  by  knowledge  of  other  styles,  avoided  his  ob- 
vious errors,  profited  by  his  experience,  learned  economy  of  materials,  and, 
in  a succession  of  tentative  structures,  gradually  and  innocently  evolved  monu- 
ments exhibiting  the  results  of  well-concentrated  thought  and  of  fidelity  to  a 
few  simple  conditions.  The  master-workman,  however,  laid  aside  his  func- 
tions as  an  originator,  and  the  architect  was  born,  when  precedent  began  so  to 
accumulate,  when  civilization  became  so  complex  and  exacting,  the  wants  of 
mankind  so  various  and  conflicting,  that,  to  meet  the  more  elaborate  emer- 
gencies of  building,  there  came  to  be  needed  a larger  and  more  exact 
knowledge,  a more  careful  study  of  plans  and  details,  and  a more  deliberate 
and  scientific  method  of  construction.  These  conditions  began  to  render 
essential  the  organization  of  some  processes  and  appliances,  by  means  of  which 
the  system  of  structure  in  each  case,  embracing  all  the  details  of  the  build- 
ing, could  be  more  exactly  and  completely  set  forth  long  before  the  first 
stone  was  laid.  They  implied,  in  short,  draughtsmen,  instruments  of  mathe- 
matical precision,  a library  of  reference,  and  all  the  other  appointments  and 
conveniences  of  an  office,  that  is,  both  of  a studio  and  of  a place  of  business. 
They  implied,  moreover,  not  only  the  unwritten  experience  of  the  builder, 
but  the  training  and  observation  of  the  scholar,  by  means  of  which  the  most 
remote  results  could  be  foreseen  and  provided  for  ; and  more  especially,  they 
called  for  the  feeling,  the  inspiration,  the  patience,  self-denial,  and  tempered 
zeal  of  the  artist.  Uncultured  genius  may  be  eloquent,  but  its  elocpience  is 
ungrammatical  ; and  although  in  architecture  as  in  literature  we  may  some- 
times pardon  the  awkwardness  of  the  phrase  for  the  sake  of  the  preciousness 
of  the  thought,  in  neither  — and  more  especially  in  architecture,  whose  highest 
duty  it  is  to  embody  history  and  civilization  in  durable  monuments,  and  whose 
processes  are  so  artificial  and  scientific  — can  the  preciousness  of  the  thought 
render  less  necessary  purity  of  language,  elegance  of  expression,  and  exact- 
ness of  knowledge.  Uncultured  genius  may  in  a moment  of  heaven-sent 


INTRODUCTION. 


xiii 


inspiration  invent  a great  architectural  thought,  but  plodding  culture  is 
needed  to  give  it  such  expression  as  to  render  it  worthy  of  place  in  the 
records  of  time  and  capable  of  doing  duty  as  a new  starting-point  of  archi- 
tectural style.  This  is  the  plain  raison  d’etre  of  the  architect.  He  exists 
because  civilization  demands  him.  It  is  our  present  duty  to  see  that  lie  is 
worthy  of  his  mission. 

The  architectural  work  of  our  own  country  indicates  clearly  enough  that  wre 
have  made  the  largest  and  most  catholic  use  of  European  precedent,  and  en- 
deavored to  repeat  European  forms  with  all  the  fidelity  in  our  power.  But 
it  is  important  to  note  that  these  forms  have  in  each  locality  insensibly 
submitted  in  a greater  or  less  degree  to  practical  and  social  conditions.  They 
have,  however  reluctantly,  yielded  some  of  their  characteristics  to  the  exactions 
of  absolute  local  necessity  and  convenience,  and,  in  so  yielding,  have  created  to 
a certain  extent  local  peculiarities  of  form  or  style.  Municipal  regulations, 
characteristics  of  the  local  building  materials,  difference  of  climate,  habits  of 
building  and  living,  the  greater  or  less  degree  of  culture,  — all  these  condi- 
tions have  contributed  to  create  distinctions  of  style  between  the  various  cities 
and  districts  of  our  country.  There  is  a recognizable  difference  between  the 
architecture  of  New  York  and  that  of  Boston,  between  that  of  Washington  and 
that  of  Baltimore,  between  that  of  Philadelphia  and  that  of  Chicago.  Our 
close  proximity  to  these  scenes  of  activity  prevent  us  from  seeing  these  pro- 
cesses in  true  perspective  ; but  it  is  a fact  that  we  are  living  in  the  midst  of 
the  development  of  styles,  such  as  they  are.  If  methods  of  intercommunica- 
tion were  as  difficult  now  as  they  were  several  centuries  ago,  we  should  doubt- 
less see  very  much  stronger  contrasts  between  the  works  of  different  localities  ; 
and  if,  added  to  this,  it  were  possible  to  conceive  that  these  localities  existed 
without  the  means  for  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  given  by  the  graver,  the 
printing-press,  and  the  photographic  camera,  we  should  in  all  probability  ex- 
hibit variations  of  style  as  marked  and  characteristic,  if  not  as  picturesque,  as 
those  in  the  cities  of  Belgium,  France,  and  England  in  the  thirteenth  and  four- 
teenth centuries.  But  even  under  our  present  conditions  the  intelligent  eye 
can  detect  the  gradual  development  of  local  characteristics,  not  only  in  the 
subdivisions  of  our  country,  but,  in  a larger  sense,  in  the  nation  itself  as  a 
whole  and  as  distinguished  from  the  other  nations  of  Christendom,  — charac- 
teristics not  so  marked,  indeed,  as  those  which  made  English  work  contrast 
with  that  of  the  Scotch  in  the  thirteenth  century,  or  that  of  Central  France 
uith  that  of  Southern  France  in  the  twelfth  century,  but  sufficient  to  indi- 
cate the  existence  of  some  influence  insensibly  and  unconsciously  working 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION. 


against  our  intentions  to  imitate  foreign  styles.  This  is  illustrated  most 
conspicuously  by  the  large  use  of  wood  which  is  imposed  upon  us  by  our 
obvious  necessities  ; and  although  the  master-builders  of  a few  years  ago 
tried  very  hard  to  imitate  with  this  material  Grecian  temples  of  marble 
according  to  Stuart  and  Revett,  or  the  mansions  of  brick  and  stone  of  the 
Georgian  era  according  to  the  traditions  brought  over  from  the  old  country 
and  loyally  followed  by  our  ancestors,  yet,  with  due  acknowledgment  for 
certain  suggestions  from  Swiss  art,  we  have,  under  the  pressure  of  necessity, 
produced  at  length  certain  forms  in  our  wooden  houses  peculiar  to  our- 
selves, and  capable  under  proper  treatment  of  a high  degree  of  artistic 
development. 

Now,  inasmuch  as  all  history  may  be  read  by  an  intelligent  observation  of 
the  monuments  of  the  past,  as  the  following  pages  show  with  sufficient  dis- 
tinctness, it  is  certainly  important  for  us  to  see  to  it  that  our  civilization  is 
having  a proper  exponent  in  our  monuments.  We  cannot  remain  indifferent 
to  the  operations  of  this  mysterious  influence  which  is  building  history  for  us. 
It  is  the  part  of  intelligent  beings  to  examine,  and,  if  possible,  correct  it 
and  give  it  proper  direction.  If  we  analyze  it  in  this  spirit,  we  shall  dis- 
cover that  its  principal  elements  are,  first,  practical  local  necessities  and 
conditions  ; second,  a dangerous  superficiality  of  thought  and  work,  arising 
from  a deficient  education  in  art  and  from  a want  of  leisure,  — from  the 
spirit  of  haste  and  impatience  which  prevails  in  all  new  communities  ; 
and,  third,  indifference  or  absence  of  sympathy  in  the  public  for  the  just 
expression  of  beauty  or  fitness  in  buildings. 

The  natural  local  conditions,  material  and  social,  constitute  a legitimate 
and  controlling  element  of  this  influence.  It  is  self-evident,  that,  to  the 
formation  of  good  style  in  architecture,  the  study  of  convenience  and  econ- 
omy is  the  first,  duty,  to  which  everything  else  must  be  subordinate.  A 
public  like  ours,  trained  in  habits  of  business,  is  positive  and  exacting,  and 
at  least  has  the  virtue  of  compelling  the  architect  to  fulfil  all  such  prac- 
tical requirements  in  a straightforward  and  common-sense  manner.  Doubt- 
less to  this  quality  in  our  people  we  are  indebted  for  the  most  characteristic 
expressions  in  our  work.  It  is  not  a common  occurrence  for  a man  to 
incommode  himself  nowadays  for  the  sake  of  an  architectural  idea.  The 
merchant  requires  that  the  first  story  of  the  front  of  his  shop  or  ware- 
house shall  be  of  class  ; the  formulas  of  Vitruvius,  Vignola,  Palladio,  and 
\ 

all  the  most  venerable  traditions  and  usages  of  the  art,  must  yield  to  this 
inexorable  demand  ; the  building  committee  insists  that  their  church  must 


INTRODUCTION. 


xv 


be  a place  where  all  may  see  and  hear  the  speaker,  and  that  accommo- 
dation must  be  provided  on  the  first  floor  for  vestry,  Sunday  school, 
class-rooms,  kitchen,  and  all  the  social  and  religious  exigencies  of  their  style 
of  worship  and  service,  although  Pugin  would  faint  with  horror  at  the  result. 
Yet  it  is  out  of  just  such  prosaic  exactions  as  these  that  our  architecture 
must  be  developed.  We  must  have  narrow  façades  on  our  streets,  and  these 
must  be  built  to  the  skies  and  crowded  with  windows.  We  can  find  no 
historic  precedent  for  such  things.  We  must  accept  the  conditions  as  they 
are  given  to  us,  and  create  our  architecture  accordingly. 

But  the  second  element  of  the  influence  which  is  at  work  on  our  buildings 
is  one  which  we  can  and  ought  to  control,  namely,  superficiality  of  thought 
and  work,  whether  arising  from  want  of  education  or  from  the  atmosphere 
of  bustle  and  haste  in  which  we  live.  American  architects,  as  a rule,  have 
not  hitherto  been  men  of  high  training  ; the  standard  has  been  low,  and 
access  to  the  recognized  ranks  of  the  profession  has  not  been  denied  to  the 
most  ignorant  and  audacious  pretenders.  In  order  to  counteract  this  great 
evil,  a few  architects  who  happened  to  live,  practise,  and  study  their  art  in 
the  city  of  New  York  in  the  year  1857,  — men  who  either  in  the  schools 
abroad  or  in  offices  at  home  had  been  educated  to  the  point  of  feeling  the 
necessity  of  greater  professional  comity  and  of  more  intelligent  rules  of 
practice,  — embodied  themselves  in  a society  known  as  the  American  In- 
stitute of  Architects.  The  second  article  of  its  constitution  sets  forth  that 
its  objects  are  “ to  unite  in  fellowship  the  architects  of  this  continent,  and 
to  combine  their  efforts  so  as  to  promote  the  artistic,  scientific,  and  practical 
efficiency  of  the  profession.”  The  Institute,  reorganized  in  1866,  has  chapters 
or  branches  in  every  principal  city  of  the  Union,  each  of  which  has  stated 
monthly  meetings,  and  there  is  an  annual  convention  of  the  national  body. 
There  is  a steady  increase  of  membership  throughout  the  country,  and  the 
organization  has  already  tended  directly  and  indirectly  to  raise  the  standard 
of  the  profession,  to  prompt  a large  amount  of  active  and  fruitful  work,  to 
create  an  important  esprit  chi  corps,  and  to  encourage  a higher  culture.  It 
has  been  the  means  in  several  cities  of  obtaining  important  legislation  for  im- 
provement in  the  arts  of  building,  and  its  members  in  New  York  and  Boston 
have  established  monthly  publications,  containing  drawings  and  architectural 
projects,  — which,  without  such  a vehicle,  would  remain  concealed  and  un- 
productive in  the  architects’  portfolios,  — together  with  studies  and  designs 
for  buildings  actually  erected,  thus  facilitating  the  comparison  of  competitive 
designs,  encouraging  more  careful  work,  and  diffusing  a knowledge  of  the 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION. 


general  progress  of  the  art.  In  Boston  the  members  of  the  local  society 
have  also  delivered  a course  of  lectures  for  the  benefit  of  students,  estab- 
lished prizes  to  encourage  progress  in  their  studies,  and  have  inaugurated  a 
series  of  exhibitions  of  industrial  art.  A body  like  the  Institute,  composed 
largely  of  young  men,  and  recruited  to  a considerable  extent  in  late  years 
from  graduates  of  colleges,  bringing  to  it  an  important  contribution  of 
liberal  training  and  general  culture,  and  all  fired  with  a certain  degree  of 
emulative  and  generous  enthusiasm,  — a body  so  composed  can  hardly  fail 
in  a young  and  impressionable  country  to  do  much  towards  diminishing  the 
anarchy  which  has  hitherto  distinguished  the  practice  of  architecture  here. 
Much  has  been  projected,  and  somewhat  has  been  accomplished,  in  the 
direction  of  the  founding  of  architectural  schools  and  the  establishment  of 
architectural  departments  in  educational  institutions.  But,  from  a national 
point  of  view,  the  work  of  organized  education  is  but  begun,  and  a basis 
of  cultivated  conviction,  not  only  on  the  part  of  those  who  preach  and 
criticise,  but  ou  the  part  of  those  who  practise  and  produce  tangible  results, 
is  yet  to  be  attained. 

The  atmosphere  of  haste  in  which  we  live  is  another  element  distinctly 
detrimental  to  the  development  of  good  style.  Unlike  the  French,  we  have 
no  such  prevailing  academical  restrictions  as  are  attributed  to  the  influence  of 
the  School  of  Fine  Arts,  concentrating  all  architectural  effort  on  the  develop- 
ment of  a few  strictly  defined  ideas  such  as  constitute  French  Renaissance  ; 
but,  like  the  Greeks,  we  are  in  this  respect  free,  and  our  appeal,  like  theirs,  is 
directly  to  the  people,  not  to  any  body  of  professors.  But  the  Greek  democ- 
racy, says  our  author,  “ had  the  inestimable  advantage  of  leisure.”  The  Greek 
temple  therefore  is  an  expression  of  utter  tranquillity.  The  very  essence  of  that 
great  art  was  deliberation.  The  architect  was  never  hurried  ; his  inspiration 
proceeded,  not  from  impulse,  but  from  conviction.  He  built  slowly.  But  with 
us  he  is  pressed  to  the  completion  of  his  work  amidst  bustle  and  confusion. 
The  public  is  impatient  of  delay  ; it  must  have  promptness  and  despatch,  at 
all  hazards.  The  modern  Ictinus  must  supply  the  design  for  the  new  Par- 
thenon, “ ready  for  estimates,”  in  three  weeks  at  furthest  ; and  the  unfinished 
study  is  perpetuated  in  a workmanlike  manner,  with  all  its  sins  of  omission 
and  commission  made  permanent  and  monumental.  Indeed,  all  the  conditions 
of  life  in  this  country  encourage  the  architect  to  habits  rather  of  rapid  com- 
position than  of  study  and  reflection,  and  tend  to  make  of  his  occupation  rather 
a business  than  a fine  art.  The  “ strenuous  liberty  ” which  we  have  inherited 
involves  a constant  and  often  harassing  struggle  for  existence.  Therefore  the 


INTRODUCTION. 


XV  11 


aim  of  the  architect  is  to  multiply  his  opportunities  of  professional  work  to 
the  utmost  extent,  having  in  view,  first,  his  pecuniary  emoluments  of  course, 
and,  second,  his  art.  Under  these  circumstances  he  has  no  time  to  review 
his  studies  ; he  cannot  afford,  after  his  first  sketches  are  made  and  his  work 
in  progress  of  routine  development  m his  office,  to  distrust  and  chasten  Ins 
favorite  motifs,  with  the  solicitude  and  patience  of  an  artist  aiming  at  per- 
fection like  the  Greek  ; much  less,  having  discovered  on  reflection  a new 
condition  in  his  problem  which  would  enable  him  perhaps  to  raise  to  a higher 
plane  of  artistic  excellence  or  fitness  the  whole  sentiment  of  his  work,  to  throw 
aside  his  old  labors  and  begin  anew.  This  costs  too  much.  If  the  products 
of  routine  and  of  conventionality  will  satisfy  his  impatient  public,  he  has 
the  strongest  impulse  under  the  circumstances  to  content  himself  with  the 
superficial  appearance,  and  let  the  substance  of  art  go  for  those  who  can  afford 
it.  Art  is  a mistress  who  is  won  by  no  such  partial  service. 

Notwithstanding  the  narrow  path  which  they  have  chosen  for  themselves 
and  their  peremptory  exclusions,  even  if  their  efforts  are  misdirected  in  the 
* manner  and  to  the  extent  which  M.  Viollet-le-Duc  maintains,  there  pervades 
the  schools  of  Paris  an  atmosphere  of  noble  devotion  to  art.  Whether  this 
comes  from  the  inspiration  of  venerable  traditions  and  monuments,  or  whether 
it  arises  from  a condition  of  society  which  enables  respectability  to  be  main- 
tained at  less  expense  and  thus  makes  money  less  indispensable  there  than  here, 
— whether  it  is  the  result  of  any  or  all  of  these  causes,  the  spectacle  of  lives 
given  up  to  art  — sacrificed,  from  the  mercantile  point  of  view  — is  much 
more  common  with  the  French  than  with  us.  It,  would  be  impossible  of 
course,  even  if  it  were  desirable,  to  make  a Paris  — even  a Paris  of  art  — in 
this  country.  Our  young  architects  may  go  to  Paris,  but  they  cannot  bring 
Paris  here.  Cœlum  non  animant  mutant.  Yet,  to  compare  our  conditions 
of  life  as  they  affect  the  growth  of  artistic  feeling  with  those  of  the  French 
or  English  is  useful  and  indeed  indispensable,  not  only  to  bring  us  to  our 
bearings,  and,  by  comparison  of  results,  to  save  us  from  the  common  sin  of 
complacency,  but  to  enable  us  to  understand  the  philosophy  of  the  develop- 
ment of  distinctive  styles,  and  to  what  extent  these  distinctions  are  due  to 
natural  and  necessary  premises  on  the  one  hand  and  to  artificial  and  remedi- 
able causes  on  the  other.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  enter  upon  any  such 
comparison,  without  discovering  at  an  early  stage  that  our  state  of  society 
is  not  such  as  necessarily  to  inspire  the  architect  with  high  thoughts,  or  to 
exact  from  him  that  serious  study  and  self-denial  without  which  there  can 
be  no  really  great  results.  Civilization  has  no  exponent  more  sensitive  than 


INTRODUCTION. 


xviii 


architecture  ; for  it  is  an  art  not  only  absolutely  indispensable,  but  one 
which  adapts  itself  practically  and  aesthetically  to  the  condition  of  things 
amongst  which  it  grows.  Of  course  individual  genius,  caprice,  or  invention 
finds  expression  in  it,  but  no  individuality  can  control  it.  We  may  conceive 
of  the  production  of  a perfect  work  of  sculpture,  painting,  or  music,  or  a 
great  achievement  of  literature,  in  the  midst  of  a community  which  cannot 
appreciate  it  and  who  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  giving  it  existence  ; 
but  an  architectural  work,  unless  it  is  avowedly  an  imitation  of  some  mon- 
ument which  has  received  the  stamp  of  historical  approval,  notwithstanding 
all  the  original  invention  which  the  architect  may  bestow  upon  it,  is  the  out- 
growth, to  a great  extent,  of  a prevailing  sentiment.  It  cannot  exist  without 
the  sympathy  of  the  people.  It  is  an  archive  of  history,  having  its  birth  in 
necessity,  and  its  peculiar  characteristics  in  the  conditions  of  life.  The  Re- 
naissance of  Italy,  France,  and  England  may  have  exhibited  individualities 
more  than  the  ancient  or  mediaeval  styles,  but  it  was  created  respectively 
neither  by  Arnolfo  da  Lapo,  by  Philibert  Delorme,  nor  by  Sir  Christopher 
Wren,  nor  yet  by  their  followers,  however  illustrious.  Their  works  were  * 
the  unconscious  expression  of  their  eras.  They  were  the  instruments,  and 
not  the  authors,  of  styles. 

To  the  sympathy  of  generous  culture  then  we  must  mainly  look  to  encour- 
age the  development  of  a fitting  architectural  expression  of  our  time  and  place 
in  history  ; professional  culture  and  professional  genius  will  eagerly  arise  under 
the  impulse  of  appreciation  to  meet  the  great  emergency  and  to  give  it  gram- 
matical utterance.  To  the  creation  of  this  spirit  of  sympathy  therefore  this 
reproduction  of  the  earnest  work  of  an  illustrious  Frenchman  is  humbly  com- 
mended and  dedicated  by 

The  Translator. 


J 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

TRANSLATOR’S  INTRODUCTION iü 

FIRST  DISCOURSE. 

What  is  Barbarism ?— What  is  Art? — What  are  the  Relations  of 
Art  to  Civilization? — Wiiat  are  the  Social  Conditions  most 
FAVORABLE  TO  THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  AlIT  ? 3 

SECOND  DISCOURSE. 

Primitive  Methods  of  Construction  as  practised  in  Greek  Archi- 
tecture . ...........  26 


THIRD  DISCOURSE. 

Comparison  between  the  Architecture  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  03 

FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 

The  Architecture  of  the  Romans  .......  9.~> 

FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 

The  Methods  to  be  followed  in  the  Study  of  Architecture.  — The 
Basilicas  of  the  Romans. — The  Domestic  Architecture  of  the 
Ancients  . . . . . . . . . . . .134 


SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 

The  Decline  of  Ancient  Architecture.  — Style  and  Composition. — - 
The  Origins  of  Byzantine  Architecture.—  The  Architecture 
of  the  West  since  the  Establishment  of  Christianity  . 


168 


XX 


CONTENTS. 


SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 

Tiie  Principle  of  Western  Architecture  in  the  Middle  Ages  . . 251 


EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 

The  Causes  of  the  Decline  of  Architecture.  — Some  of  the  Prin- 
ciples of  Architectural  Composition. — The  Renaissance  in  the 
West  and  especially  in  Prance  .......  332 


NINTH  DISCOURSE. 

The  Principles  and  Information  necessary  to  Architects  . . 402 

TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


The  Architecture  of  the  Nineteenth  Century.— Method 


. 472 


LIST  OF  PLATES. 


Pace 


I.  The  Lycian  Sarcophagus.  {In  the  British  Museum.)  . . .36 

II.  Construction  of  a Greek  Temple 41 

III.  The  Pantheon.  Plan  on  two  Levels  .....  107 

IV.  “ “ Details  of  Construction  . . . . . 108 

V.  The  Baths  op  Antoninus  Caracalla.  Plan  . . . .117 

VI.  “ “ “ “ “ Ruins  of  the  Frigidarium  . 122 

VII.  “ “ “ “ “ Restoration  of  the  Frigidarium  122 

VIII.  The  Basilica  of  Fano.  Plan 144 

IX.  “ “ “ “ Section  on  the  Line  A B in  the  Plan  . . 147 

X.  “ “ “ “ Construction  of  the  Roof  . . . 148 

XI.  The  Cathedral  of  Vézelay.  Sections  .....  262 

XII.  The  Church  of  St.  Eutropius  at  Saintes.  Aisle:  Exterior  . 283 

XIII.  The  Cathedral  of  Peterborough.  Part  of  the  Nave  : Interior  . 286 

XIV.  The  Cathedral  of  Paris.  Completion  of  West  Front  . . 311 


XV.  The  Château  of  Boulogne,  called  Madrid.  Plan  of  First  Floor  369 

XVI.  “ “ “ “ “ Part  of  principal  Elevation  371 

XVII.  The  Palace  of  the  Tuileries.  Plan,  according  to  the  Design  of 

Philibert  De  L'Orme  . . . . . . . .376 

XVIII.  The  Palace  of  the  Tuileries.  Part  of  the  Garden  Front  in  the 
Design  of  Philibert  De  L'Orme 


377 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


FIRST  DISCOURSE. 


WHAT  IS  BARBARISM?  WHAT  IS  ART?  - WIIAT  ARE  THE  RELATIONS  OF  ART  TO  CIVILIZA- 
TION Î-WHAT  ARE  THE  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS  MOST  FAVORABLE  TO  THE  DEVELOPMENT 
OF  ART? 

is  evident  that  at  certain  times  art  lias  been  devel- 
oped with  singular  energy,  lias  been  honored,  culti- 
vated, and  beloved,  while  at  others  it  has  fallen  into 
indifference,  neglect,  or  even  contempt.  It  is  cus- 
tomary to  divide  the  history  of  art,  accordingly,  into 
periods  of  glory  and  periods  of  barbarism.  But  it  is 
important  at  the  outset  to  understand  what  is  meant  by  barbarism. 

I propose  to  prove  that  a people  may  be  barbarous,  according  to 
our  modern  point  of  view,  - — that  is,  savage,  superstitious,  fanatical, 
without  order  or  system  in  any  of  its  movements,  governed  by  the 
most  imperfect  laws, — -and  yet  possess  very  perfect  arts  ; and,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  a nation  may  be  civilized  and  polished  to  the  very 
highest  degree,  organized  under  the  most  refined  philosophy,  and 
adorned  by  the  most  polite  manners,  and  yet,  in  its  arts,  be  degraded 
or  even  barbarous. 

It  needs  no  argument  to  show  that  barbarism,  in  the  sense  of 
cruelty,  can  have  no  influence  over  the  arts  ; for  history  affords  but 
too  many  examples  of  the  prevalence  of  this  unhappy  instinct  of 
human  nature  among  people  who  have  brought  the  arts  to  the  very 
highest  degree  of  development.  Thus,  while  the  Greeks  were  build- 
ing the  Parthenon  at  Athens,  they  were  plunged  in  all  the  cruelties 
of  the  Peloponnesian  war  ; while  the  Romans  were  spreading  their 
civilization  over  the  known  world,  and  enriching  their  most  distant 


4 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


possessions  with  monuments  of  admirable  skill,  they  amused  them- 
selves with  mortal  combats  between  slaves  who  had  no  cause  for 
mutual  hatred,  and  systematically  gratified  the  savage  curiosity  of  an 
idle  populace  by  casting  human  beings  to  be  devoured  by  the  wild 
beasts  of  the  circus.  And  in  later  times,  while  Christians  were  cov- 
ering the  East  and  West  with  the  most  inimitable  works  of  art,  they 
were  slaughtering  and  burning  one  another  at  the  stake  for  mere  dif- 
ference of  opinion  on  a dogma  or  on  the  interpretation  of  a text. 
While  Y ersailles  and  the  Invalides  were  in  process  of  erection,  in  the 
midst  of  a truly  Augustan  era  of  poets  and  artists,  the  courts  of  jus- 
tice of  the  seventeenth  century  were  still  barbarously  sending  to 
the  stake  knaves  or  fools  who  called  themselves  sorcerers. 

W e can  therefore  at  once  disembarrass  our  discussion  of  the  word 
barbarous  in  this  sense,  and  consider  it  only  in  its  broader  signifi- 
cation of  uncivilized. 

I propose  to  show  that,  when  we  would  compare  the  condition  of 
art  at  different  periods  of  the  moral  and  political  history  of  man,  the 
question  involved  is  not  whether  this  or  that  period  was  more  or  less 
civilized  than  another,  but  whether  it  was  distinguished  for  qualities 
more  or  less  favorable  to  the  development  of  art. 

It  is  evident,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  different  branches  of  civi- 
lization do  not  all  keep  pace  one  with  another  in  their  progress. 
Institutions,  politics,  science,  letters,  arts,  do  not  develop  together  ; 
otherwise,  our  institutions,  our  government,  our  scientific  discoveries, 
being  in  advance  of  those  of  the  seventeenth  century,  for  example, 
our  modern  dramas  should  be  better  than  the  tragedies  and  comedies 
of  Racine  and  Molière,  and  our  painters  should  leave  far  behind  the 
great  Italian  masters  of  the  sixteenth  century;  for  Julius  II.  did  not 
travel  on  a railroad,  nor  did  Charles  V.  have  an  electric  telegraph  by 
which  to  transmit  his  orders  to  all  the  provinces  of  his  vast  empire. 
Art,  above  all,  cannot  be  measured  by  any  such  symbols  of  material 
progress  and  prosperity.  It  has  its  own  value,  which  may  be  recog- 
nized, not  in  its  surroundings,  but  in  its  oavh  truthfulness. 

We  all  know  that  nations,  like  men,  are  nearer  absolute  barbarism  in 
their  infancy  than  when  fully  civilized  or  matured,  and  that  they  re- 
lapse into  barbarism  when  the  machinery  which  combined  and  brought 
into  harmonious  relations  their  various  parts  is  worn  out,  just  as  the 
old  man,  whose  organs  have  ceased  to  perform  their  functions  with 
regularity,  falls  into  his  second  childhood.  Every  era  of  art  has  in 


WHAT  IS  ART? 


ô 


like  manner  its  infancy,  its  moment  of  maturity,  that  inappreciable 
interval  between  progress  and  decline,  and  its  old  age  ; but  in  these 
revolutions  it  never  becomes  barbarous  so  long  as  it  remains  true  to 
itself.  Its  infancy  is  an  anticipation,  its  old  age  is  a memory  of  its 
maturer  perfections.  But  when  art  studiously  conceals  or  carelessly 
disregards  the  principles  on  which  it  is  based  or  the  practical  neces- 
sities it  is  intended  to  satisfy  ; when  it  yields  to  the  fantastic  caprices 
of  Fashion  ; when  it  has  become  a mere  plaything  for  a school  of 
artists,  who  act  from  impulse  or  custom  and  not  from  reason  ; and 
when,  reflecting  no  longer  the  manners  of  a people,  no  longer  pliant 
to  all  the  uses  and  degrees  of  life,  it  has  become  a mere  matter  of 
luxury  to  the  few  and  an  affair  of  simple  curiosity  and  wonder  to  the 
many,  — then  it  has  ceased  to  be  true  art  and  has  indeed  relapsed 
into  barbarism. 

But  to  arrive  at  a knowledge  of  truth  nothing  is  more  important 
than  to  define  terms.  Let  us  understand  what  Art  is  ; for  very 
many  talk  about  art  without  any  real  knowledge  of  their  subject. 
There  are  extant,  indeed,  many  epigrammatic  and  sententious  defini- 
tions, whose  only  merit  consists  in  displaying  the  sagacity  of  their 
authors,  and  which  are  understood  only  by  those  who  are  as  familiar 
with  the  subject  as  the  authors  themselves.  I shall  affect  no  such 
brevity. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  there  were  seven  “liberal  arts”;  but  to-day, 
with  all  due  respect  to  the  colleges  and  schools  of  exact  learning  and 
moral  philosophy,  most  of  these  “ liberal  arts  ” must  be  regarded  as 
sciences.  Let.  it  be  understood  that  by  the  arts  we  refer  only  to 
Music,  Architecture,  Sculpture,  and  Painting.  We  place  them 
in  this  order  because  men  uttered  sounds  before  they  built  houses, 
built  houses  before  carving  them,  and  carved  before  painting  them  ; 
for  only  a sharp  flint  was  required  to  carve  wood  or  sandstone,  but 
to  extract  colors  from  vegetables  and  minerals  and  to  apply  them 
where  needed  implied  a course  of  reasoning  and  observation  involv- 
ing a certain  amount  of  time  and  study.  This  order  is  adopted,  not 
because  it  is  vitally  necessary  to  our  definition,  but  because  it  is 
convenient  and  rational.  As  for  poetry  and  pantomime,  they  are 
necessarily  akin  to  Music.  These  four  arts  are  brothers  : the  first 
two,  Music  and  Architecture,  are  twins;  for  it  will  be  observed  that, 
unlike  Sculpture  and  Painting,  they  do  not  obtain  their  origin  from 
the  imitation  of  natural  objects. 


G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


There  are  certain  natural  desires  which,  to  be  gratified,  express 
themselves  in  a manner  suggested  by  certain  instincts  of  the  soul,  — 
instincts  which  a long  observation  finally  converts  into  rules.  Thus, 
man  very  soon  discovered  that  language  and  signs  were  not  suffi- 
cient to  manifest  all  his  ideas  ; he  sought  to  move  his  fellows  by 
giving  to  his  voice  certain  inflections,  certain  cadences,  a rhythm,  to 
convey  his  thought  more  vividly.  Children  are  not  taught  the  art 
of  intonation,  yet,  whether  born  in  Paris  or  Pekin,  they  sponta- 
neously express  their  desires  or  sentiments  by  a peculiar  stress  or 
rhythm  of  sounds,  and  these  they  assist  by  appropriate  and  natural 
gestures,  understood  by  all.  Plere  we  have  already  a form  of  art. 
Animals  have  no  pantomime  to  give  additional  meaning  to  their 
cries,  which  at  most  can  express  only  immediate  and  personal  sensa- 
tions, such  as  joy,  grief,  terror,  anger.  Man  alone  foresees,  hopes, 
remembers,  and,  at  his  will,  his  voice  gives  just  utterance  to  the  senti- 
ment which  he  desires  to  share  with  his  fellows,  though  the  cause  or 
object  of  his  foresight,  his  hope,  or  his  memory  may,  until  then,  have 
been  unknown  to  his  hearers.  Yet,  if  he  says  to  a crowd  of  a hun- 
dred men,  “ The  enemy  is  sacking  your  homes  and  slaughtering 
your  families,”  in  the  same  tone  with  which  he  would  say,  “ Come 
to  supper,”  no  one  would  move.  But  if  his  tones  agree  with  his 
words,  if  these  tones  are  aided  by  a natural  gesture,  evidently  in- 
spired by  the  consciousness  of  imminent  danger,  he  would  at  once 
arouse  the  sympathy  and  indignation  of  his  audience. 

It  is  an  important  fact,  and  one  worthy  of  careful  consideration, 
that  this  primitive  form  of  art  will  act  far  more  surely  on  primitive 
than  on  highly  civilized  men  : the  latter  would  reason  ; however 
pathetic  your  accent,  however  expressive  your  voice,  however  true 
and  terrible  your  gesture,  they  would  say,  without  allowing  them- 
selves to  be  overcome  by  the  art  which  you  have  put  into  your  tones 
and  your  movements,  “ Whence  comes  this  improbable  news  ? ” 

Prom  the  art  of  tones  to  melody  the  road  is  short,  and  Music  is 
born.  Let  us  now  examine  architecture,  to  which  we  have  given  the 
second  rank  of  antiquity. 

To  build  a hut  with  the  branches  of  a tree  is  not  art,  it  is  simply 
the  fulfilment  of  a natural  need  ; but  to  excavate  a dwelling  in  a 
sandstone  cliff,  to  divide  the  vaults  into  apartments  of  various  sizes 
to  accommodate  the  number  or  occupations  of  the  household  ; cau- 
tiously to  leave  pillars  to  support  the  ceiling  ; to  give  to  the  caps  of 


WIIAT  IS  AST? 


7 


these  pillars  a greater  bearing  surface,  to  avoid  danger  from  the  over- 
hanging' rock  resting  upon  isolated  points  of  support  ; then  gradually 
to  cover  these  walls  and  pillars,  left  from  the  original  mass,  with  in- 
cisions, signs,  destined  to  preserve  the  memory  of  an  event,  the  birth 
of  a child,  the  death  of  a father  or  a wife,  a victory  over  an  enemy,  — 
this  again  is  art. 

It  is  needless  to  say  more  to  prove  that,  music,  together  with 
poetry  and  pantomime,  which  are  its  derivatives,  and  architecture,  arc 
the  only  arts  in  which  primitive  man  developed  certain  creative  fac- 
ulties of  his  nature,  in  his  desire  to  propagate  his  ideas,  to  preserve 
his  recollections  or  share  his  hopes,  by  associating  with  them  a sound 
or  a form. 

Sculpture  and  painting  are  to  architecture  what  pantomime  and 
poetry  are  to  music  ; that  is  to  say,  derivatives,  necessary  conse- 
quences. 

A man  more  intelligent  and  stronger  than  his  neighbors  has  slain 
a lion  ; he  suspends  its  skin  before  the  door  of  the  cave  which  he 
inhabits.  The  lion’s  skin  is  destroyed  ; he  carves  in  the  stone,  as. 
well  as  he  can,  something  which  resembles  a lion,  so  that  his  chil- 
dren and  his  neighbors  may  preserve  forever  the  memory  of  his 
strength  and  courage.  But  he  wishes  that  this  sign  shall  be  seen 
from  afar,  shall  attract  attention.  He  has  noticed  that  red,  among 
all  colors,  is  the  most  brilliant;  so  he  daubs  his  sculptured  lion  with 
red.  By  this  it  is  intended  to  say,  “ This  is  the  house  of  the  brave 
man  who  knows  how  to  defend  himself  and  his  property.”  This  is 
art;  it  exists  here  entire,  complete,  and  nothing  remains  but  to  per- 
fect the  manner  of  execution.  By  and  by  our  primitive  hero  dies  ; 
his  relatives  excavate  in  the  rock  a room  in  which  to  deposit  his 
remains,  then  outside  they  carve  a man  fighting  with  a lion  ; the 
figure  of  the  man  must  be  large,  that  of  the  lion  small,  for  the  rela- 
tives of  the  deceased  wish  that  the  passers-by  should  know  that  their 
father,  their  husband,  was  a valiant  man.  Certainly,  a little  man 
who  kills  a great  lion  is  more  courageous  than  a great  man  who  kills 
a little  lion  ; but  this  is  a complex  idea,  which  does  not  enter  into 
the  mind  of  the  primitive  artist.  In  all  the  antique  sculptured  mon- 
uments of  India  and  even  of  Egypt,  the  conqueror  is  represented  as 
colossal,  while  his  enemies,  whom  he  defeats,  are  pigmies. 

In  the  vestibule  of  St.  Peter’s  at  Rome,  Bernini  has  placed  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Constantine,  — a man  who  hung  his  father-in-law, 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


strangled  his  brother-in-law,  butchered  his  nephew,  decapitated  his 
oldest  son,  and  drowned  his  wife  in  a bath  ; who  gave  up  to  wild 
beasts  all  the  Frankish  chiefs  whom  he  conquered  on  the  banks  of 
the  Rhine,  and  finished  his  career  by  destroying  the  last  remains  of 
the  institutions  of  antique  Rome,  never  to  rise  again. 

Now  the  red  lion  carved  on  the  door  of  the  barbarian,  or  the  com- 
bat represented  on  his  tomb,  is  more  in  conformity  with  the  princi- 
ples of  art  than  this  statue  of  the  Emperor  Constantine  set  up  in  the 
vestibule  of  a Christian  church  : the  lion  may  be  a shapeless  image, 
the  statue  of  Constantine  an  admirable  work  ; this  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  question,  execution  being  foreign  to  the  essential  prin- 
ciples of  art.  But  when  a privileged  people,  while  religiously  pre- 
serving these  essential  and  immutable  principles,  adds  a taste  for  the 
beautiful  and  the  power  of  expressing  it  in  visible  forms,  we  can  then 
indeed  say,  “ Behold  an  artistic  people  ! ” 

Now  such  a people  once  existed  in  a corner  of  Eastern  Europe. 
Yet,  in  a political  point  of  view,  the  Athenians  (to  whom  we  refer) 
may  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  capricious  of  nations  ; to  us 
their  unstable  institutions  were  barbarous  ; with  respect  to  admin- 
istration their  ideas  were  vague  and  impracticable  ; they  were  per- 
fidious ; the  populace  were  envious  and  greedy  ; their  leaders  were 
often  tricky  and  corrupt  ; they  were  ignorant  of  the  art  of  printing, 
the  power  of  steam,  the  electric  telegraph,  the  railroad  : but,  we  must 
confess,  their  orators,  their  poets,  their  philosophers,  their  architects, 
and  their  sculptors  remain  superior  to  all  that  the  most  civilized 
epochs  have  been  able  to  produce  Again,  it  is  certain  that  the 
ideas  of  this  people  concerning  the  structure  of  the  human  body  were 
incomplete  as  compared  with  our  own  ; anatomical  science  was  less 
cultivated  in  the  time  of  Pericles  than  in  our  day,  and  we  are  not 
informed  that  Athens  possessed  any  amphitheatres  ot  dissection  ; 
yet  how  does  it  happen  that  Greek  statuary  is  universally  ad- 
mitted to  be  superior  to  that  of  any  subsequent  age  ? The  govern- 
ing machine  of  our  modern  civilization  is  evidently  more  complete 
and  better  organized  than  that  which  directed  the  primitive  civiliza- 
tions of  Greece  and  the  Greek  Archipelego.  let  the  Iliad  and  the 
Odyssey  occupy  a position  above  any  other  poems  of  the  past  or  pres- 
ent. Thus  art  has  no  vital  connection  either  with  civilization,  sci- 
ence, or  politics. 


RELATIONS  OF  ART  TO  CIVILIZATION. 


9 


If  it  is  well  established,  therefore,  that  the  nature , and  not  the 
degree , of  civilization  produces  works  of  art,  we  must  at  once  conclude 
no  longer  to  confound  the  advance  of  civilization  or  the  industrial 
arts  with  the  advance  of  the  fine  arts  ; Ave  must  be  content  to  judge 
of  the  latter  without,  regard  to  the  laws,  the  prejudices,  the  customs, 
more  or  less  barbarous,  of  the  people  among  whom  they  may  be 
developed,  and  must  not  infer  that,  because  a nation  is  superstitious, 
fanatical,  disordered,  its  arts  must  necessarily  be  inferior  to  those 
of  another  nation  which  is  liberal,  polished  and  Avell  governed  ; Ave 
must  unlearn  our  habitual  contempt  for  the  arts  of  uncivilized  peoples 
or  periods,  and  bear  in  mind  that  such  arts,  however  despised,  may  in 
all  the  essentials  be  far  superior  to  those  which  we  are  accustomed  to 
regard  and  to  folloAv  with  scrupulous  veneration. 

An  architectural  student  Avho  devotes  himself  to  the  examination 
of  the  arts  of  any  period  of  social  barbarism  is  no  more  open  to  the 
reproach  of  entertaining  a desire  to  retrograde  towards  such  barba- 
rism than  are  those  AArho  seek  for  inspiration  among  the  arts  of  any 
other  anterior  period,  from  those  of  the  Indians  to  those  of  Louis 
XV.  ; for  no  one,  I suppose,  Avili  contend  that  our  social  state  is  not 
superior  to  the  civilizations  of  antiquity,  of  the  Middle  Ages,  or  of  the 
last  three  centuries.  We  must  be  consistent.  It  would  seem  that 
the  arts  either  accompany,  step  by  step,  the  material  and  moral  pro- 
gress of  civilization,  and  that  Ave  have,  therefore,  attained  the  moment 
of  their  greatest  glory,  as  our  civilization  is  superior  to  all  that  has 
gone  before  us,  and  Ave  must  regard  as  relatively  barbarous  all  an- 
terior arts  ; or  the  arts  are  quite  independent  of  the  moral  and 
material  state  of  civilization,  and  that,  therefore,  the  only  guide  to 
preference  of  one  expression  of  art  over  another  is  each  man’s  indi- 
vidual taste  or  caprice.  But  both  of  these  conclusions  are  frise.  In 
order  to  obtain  an  exact  notion  of  the  relative  nature  of  anterior  arts, 
Ave  must  judge  them  according  to  certain  laws,  Avhose  origin  Ave 
shall  presently  have  occasion  to  indicate,  — Lavs  Avhicli  are  peculiar  to 
those  arts,  and  entirely  independent  of  the  social  state  in  the  midst 
of  which  they  have  been  developed. 

We,  more  than  any  other  people  of  the  civilized  world,  are  the 
creatures  of  conventionalities  ; Ave  live  for  centuries  on  vulgar 
phrases  ; Ave  accept,  as  undisputed  and  indisputable  facts,  certain 
sayings,  lightly  uttered  by  some  man  of  Avit  completely  ignorant  of 
the  study  or  the  practice  of  art,  and  repeated  through  many  indiffer- 
ent generations. 


10 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Thus,  there  are  in  France  certain  ideas,  like  words  corrupted  by 
nurses,  which  are  mechanically  repeated  for  ages,  and  no  one  seeks 
to  arrive  at  their  true  sense.  But  when  presently  there  comes  a 
man  who  says  to  the  people,  “You  deceive-  yourselves  ; you  give 
to  this  word  a sense  which  does  not  belong  to  it  ; examine  its  ety- 
mology, restore  its  true  meaning,  and  thus  improve  its  usefulness 
and  free  yourselves  from  the  imputation  of  ignorantly  uttering  words 
without  knowing  their  value,”  at  once  every  one  is  ready  to  cry 
“Anathema”  to  this  corrupter  of  youth,  who  questions  things  which 
have  been  consecrated  by  centuries.  Protest  as  he  may  the  purity 
of  his  intentions,  the  reality  of  his  claims  ; invoke  common  sense 
as  he  may,  and  furnish  the  most  indisputable  proofs,  — still  “Anath- 
ema.”  Two  centuries  ago  they  would  have  burned  him  and  his  books; 
now,  as  neither  men  nor  books  are  burned,  he  is  merely  regarded 
as  a dangerous  or  at  least  a troublesome  fellow,  a meddling  busy- 
body. Fie  has  endeavored  to  restore  a misunderstood  word  to  its 
true  meaning  ; he  is  therefore  charged  with  seeking  to  change  the 
language  and  drag  it  back  into  barbarism.  He  has  striven  to  har- 
monize speech  with  reason  ; so  he  is  stigmatized  as  one  trying  to 
make  people  talk  as  men  talked  six  or  eight  hundred  years  ago. 

Now*  it  needs  but  a little  dispassionate  reflection  to  set  forever  at 
rest  the  unprofitable  disputes  which  in  like  manner  divide  and  dis- 
tract the  realm  of  art.  Every  one  has  jumped  at  a conclusion  on  this 
subject  ; every  one  has  adopted  some  conventional  notion,  and  is 
impatient  of  any  change.  In  support  of  these  ideas  a hundred  pages 
are  written,  when  only  one  is  needed  to  prove  them  wrong.  Scaliger 
says  that  every  war  arises  from  a fault  of  grammar  ; and  so,  as  re- 
gards art,  it  may  be  said  that  all  disputes  arise  from  the  want  of  a 
definition. 

Art  is  a fountain  of  instinctive  emotion  reaching  the  soul  of  man 
by  various  channels.  Thus,  the  orator,  the  poet,  the  musician,  the 
architect,  the  sculptor  or  painter,  all  alike  artists,  may  each  in  his 
own  language  utter  the  same  sentiment,  and,  to  a certain  extent, 
arouse  the  same  emotion  in  the  heart  of  him  who  hears  or  sees. 
These  various  forms  of  art  appeal  to  the  senses,  and  the  senses,  in 
different  ways,  arouse  the  same  series  of  ideas.  For  example,  the 
appearance  of  grief,  the  accent  of  grief,  and  the  representation  or 
imitation  of  grief,  create  the  same  sentiment,  pity.  It  is  important 
to  understand,  however,  that  there  are  certain  ideas,  such  as  those  of 


THE  ARTISTIC  INSTINCT  DEFINED. 


11 


philosophy  and  metaphysics,  which  are  completely  foreign  to  art 
proper,  whose  peculiar  domain  in  the  heart  is  emotional.  Every  one 
can  readily  understand  the  real  object  of  art  by  referring  to  his 
own  experience.  For  there  can  be  no  one  who,  at  least  once  in  his 
life,  whether  by  the  words  of  a poet  or  the  notes  of  a musician,  the 
aspect  of  a monument,  a statue,  or  a picture,  has  not  been  thrilled  bv 
a peculiar  emotion,  has  not  been  subdued  perhaps  by  a sympathetic 
sadness,  elated  by  an  unexpected  sensation  of  joy  or  hope,  awed  by 
some  new  sentiment  of  grandeur,  or  tilled  with  gratified  pride.  It 
would  even  seem  that  the  further  the  arts  are  removed  from  imitation 
of  nature,  the  more  apt  are  they  to  touch  certain  inward  chords  of 
the  soul  with  lasting  and  profound  emotion.  The  accent  or  trick  of 
an  orator,  a gesture  even,  a musical  phrase,  a monument,  may  in- 
stinctively bring  tears  to  the  eyes  or  thrill  the  nerves  with  indescrib- 
able sensations.  The  sentiment  thus  aroused  by  one  of  the  various 
expressions  of  art  is  our  artistic  instinct. 

Let  us  analyze  this  sentiment  ; let  us  examine  one  by  one  these 
secret  fibres  of  the  soul  so  sensitive  to  the  appeal  of  art. 

Natural  phenomena  produce  on  our  minds,  through  the  senses, 
certain  impressions  quite  distinct  from  the  direct  physical  effect  of 
such  phenomena.  Thus  a perfume  may  recall  to  our  minds  a per- 
son, an  event,  a place.  If  the  repetition  of  a mere  accessory  and 
purely  physical  sensation  like  that  of  smell  can  bring  us  back  to  a 
certain  moral  situation  associated  with  a previous  experience  of  the 
same  sensation,  it  is  because  there  have  been  unconsciously  estab- 
lished within  us  intimate  relations  between  the  senses  and  our  imagi- 
nation. The  noise  of  the  sea,  the  murmuring  of  the  wind,  the  ris- 
ing or  the  setting  of  the  sun,  the  aspect  of  a precipitous  landscape 
or  of  a green  meadow,  obscurity,  light,  awaken  in  the  soul  of  man 
moral  sensations,  a certain  abnormal  elevation  of  thought,  which,  in 
default  of  another  word,  we  call  poetic.  These  sensations  owe  their 
existence  to  the  fact  that  to  a purely  physical  impression  produced 
from  without  are  joined  ideas  which  we  derive  from  within.  Thus 
the  roaring  of  the  billows  is  a noise  with  whose  cause  we  are  famil- 
iar; why,  then,  do  we  listen  to  it  for  hours  ? Why  does  it  create  in 
our  minds  a peculiar  impression,  which  is  not  joy,  nor  grief,  nor  im- 
patience, nor  weariness  ? Because  this  grand  harmony  arouses  certain 
sentiments  which  are  lying,  as  it  were,  dormant  in  the  soul.  But 
suppose  art,  through  the  language  of  the  musician,  recalls  to  our 


12 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


minds  the  harmony  of  the  waves  ; instinctively  the  thoughts  which 
occupied  us  when  on  the  sea-shore  once  more  arise,  once  more  we 
seem  to  behold  the  immense  ocean,  and  again  to  breathe  in  the  fresh 
smell  of  the  beach  ; the  same  poetic  emotions  elevate  and  till  the 
soul.  Every  branch  of  art  exercises  a similar  power,  and  every  artist 
in  his  own  sphere  can  command  an  equal  range  of  thought. 

But  we  see  the  ocean  and  hear  the  noise  of  its  waters  ; we  there- 
fore comprehend  by  what  artifices  the  artist  who  appeals  to  the  eye 
or  addi  •esses  himself  to  the  ear  can,  each  one  in  his  own  language, 
recall  the  effect  produced  by  the  sea  upon  the  senses,  and  by  the 
senses  upon  the  mind.  But  we  cannot  hear  the  sun  rise  ; how,  then, 
can  a symphony  create  in  the  mind  the  same  sensations  which  are 
produced  by  this  daily  phenomenon  ? Why  do  we  say,  every  day, 
“ This  bit  of  music  is  of  ravishing  brightness,  — that  is  sombre  and 
fills  the  heart  with  gloom”?  How  can  sounds  be  bright  or  som- 
bre ? But  they  are  so  ; unhappy  they  who  cannot  sympathize  with 
the  reality  of  this  paradox  in  the  language  of  the  arts. 

Let  a man  enter  a low  but  extensive  crypt,  sustained  by  numerous 
short  and  massive  pillars  : though  he  can  walk  and  breathe  there  at 
his  ease,  he  will  lower  his  head;  only  sad  thoughts  and  serious  images 
will  present  themselves  to  his  mind  ; he  will  experience  a sort  of 
inward  oppression,  a yearning  for  light  and  air.  Let  the  same  man 
enter  a structure  whose  vaulted  ceiling  soars  far  aloft,  a temple  in- 
undated with  air  and  light  : he  will  raise  his  eyes,  he  will  seem 
to  dilate  with  the  ideas  of  grandeur  which  at  once  possess  his 
imagination.  Here  is  a phenomenon  which  any  one  can  observe 
for  himself. 

Watch  those  who  enter  a low,  dim  apartment  ; they  will  not  at  first 
direct  their  eyes  towards  the  roof,  though  so  near  to  them,  however 
richly  it  may  be  adorned;  but  you  behold  their  attention  attracted 
horizontally,  then  dropped  to  the  pavement.  It  you  do  not  warn 
them,  they  will  leave  the  room  without  knowing  whether  the  vault  is 
decorated  or  plain.  See,  on  the  other  hand,  the  traveller  who  enters 
the  basilica  of  St.  Peter’s  at  Rome;  from  the  very  threshold  his  eyes 
are  at  once  attracted  towards  that  immense  dome  which  crowns  the 
structure.  The  pillars  of  the  church  are  covered  with  marble  ; mag- 
nificent tombs  adorn  the  walls  ; he  does  not  see  them,  but,  advan- 
cing, he  seeks  to  penetrate  the  depths  of  the  enormous  cupola.  1 ou 
must  repeatedly  admonish  him  that  he  is  jostling  against  sculpture, 


CONCORD  OF  THE  ARTS. 


13 


that  he  is  walking  upon  porphyry,  ere  his  attention  is  withdrawn 
to  objects  near  enough  to  enable  their  value  to  be  exactly  appre- 
ciated. Long  horizontal  lines,  vaults  low  or  elevated,  an  apartment 
sombre  or  brilliant,  thus  awaken  in  the  human  soul  very  different 
sensations.  This  is  natural,  simple,  and  everybody  can  understand 
it.  But  the  human  mind  is  complex  ; by  means  of  an  inward 
faculty  whose  machinery  we  do  not  comprehend,  it  establishes  cer- 
tain relations  between  appearances,  sounds,  and  ideas,  — relations 
which,  however  strange  they  may  be,  are  none  the  less  real,  since 
we  see  them  confessed  by  every  individual  of  a crowd,  gathered  at 
the  same  place  and  at  the  same  moment.  Thus  (for  Ave  must  refer 
only  to  the  most  common  phenomena  if  we  would  be  understood), 
why  does  the  minor  tone  in  music  awaken  different  ideas  from 
the  major  tone ? We  may  say  that  there  are  in  all  arts  a minor 
and  a major  tone,  and  hence  the  infinite  details  which  constitute 
each  one  of  the  arts. 

A blind  man  Avas  asked  if  he  had  any  idea  of  redness.  “ Yes,” 
replied  he,  “red  is  the  sound  of  a trumpet.” 

There  is,  then,  an  intimate  mutual  relation  betAveen  the  expres- 
sions of  the  various  arts,  because,  as  we  have  seen,  these  expressions 
are  drawn  from  the  same  source,  and  no  nation  can  be  truly  artistic 
which  does  not  equally  comprehend  all.  So  an  architect  Avho,  in 
listening  to  an  air  or  a poem,  in  beholding  a piece  of  sculpture  or 
a painting,  is  not  moved  as  deeply  as  when  he  examines  a monu- 
ment, is  no  artist  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term  ; he  is  but  a 
practitioner  : it  is  the  same  Avith  the  musician,  the  poet,  the  painter, 
and  the  sculptor.  Indeed,  these  relations  between  the  different 
fibres  of  the  soul,  thus  deeply  affected  by  the  arts,  are  so  intimate 
that  all  men,  and,  above  all,  primitive  men,  children,  have  recourse 
to  metaphor  Avhen  they  Avisli  to  communicate  their  ideas  to  others. 

When  we  contemplate  a nation  which  has  expressed  the  highest 
ideal  of  immortal  beauty  in  forms  or  phases  the  memory  of  Avhich 
has  come  down  to  us  through  the  ages,  though  avc  uoav  can  hardly 
comprehend  them,  Ave  may  be  sure  that  such  great  results  Avere 
brought  about  by  the  perfect  mutual  harmony  of  its  music,  its  archi- 
tecture, its  sculpture,  its  painting,  and  its  poetry,  all  inspired  by  the 
same  impulse  and  all  contributing  to  the  same  end.  The  people  Avho 
first  comprehended  and  realized  the  full  poAver  of  this  harmony 
invented  the  theatre,  which  is  the  most  complete  expression  of  this 


14 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


unity  of  all  the  arts.  Hence  among  all  nations  endowed  with  the 
sentiment  of  art  the  theatre  has  become  one  of  the  most  indispensa- 
ble necessities. 

Bold  indeed  was  he  who  first  ventured  upon  this  orchestral  union 
of  music,  poetry,  architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting  in  the  ancient 
theatre,  that  together  they  might  produce  on  the  multitude  a har- 
monious sentiment,  a homogeneous  emotion  (if  I may  use  such  a 
word)  ; who  dared  to  develop  out  of  these  various  elements  of  art  a 
symphony,  as  it  were,  in  which  each  of  them  should  utter  at  a given 
moment  a melodious  and  complete  accord  ! To  what  great  results 
was  this  temerity  developed  among  the  Greeks  ! How  thoroughly 
was  this  artistic  concord  understood,  and  what  emotions  it  awakened 
in  the  midst  of  that  accomplished  people  ! 

But  these  concerts  of  the  arts  with  all  their  effects  upon  the  mul- 
titude. were  repeated  in  a later  day.  The  Middle  Ages  were  not 
ignorant  of  this  close  mutual  relation  existing  between  the  various 
forms  of  art,  when  they  built  their  churches,  in  which  the  architec- 
ture, the  imposing  ceremonies,  the  music,  the  sculpture,  the  painting, 
the  voice  of  the  orator,  seemed  to  direct  all  souls  to  the  same  thought. 
If  antiquity  possessed  this  scenic  power  in  an  exalted  degree,  the 
mediaeval  period,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  was  no  less  richly  en- 
dowed. 

Thus,  then,  in  a philosophical  point  of  view,  art  must  be  regarded 
as  an  indivisible  unity,  assuming  different  forms  to  act  upon  the 
minds  of  men  ; and  when  these  different  forms  are  placed  in  concord 
at  the  same  place  and  time,  when,  actuated  by  the  same  inspiration, 
they  employ  the  method  peculiar  to  each  to  move  the  senses,  they 
produce  the  most  vivid  and  lasting  emotion  which  thinking  beings 
can  experience. 

I still  retain,  distinct  and  fresh  in  my  mind,  the  recollection  of  a 
childish  emotion,  though  the  circumstance  which  I am  about  to 
relate  occurred  at  a time  the  impressions  of  which  are  usually  ot  the 
vaguest  character.  I was  often  confided  to  the  care  of  an  old  do- 
mestic, who  led  me  to  walk  wherever  his  fancy  dictated.  One  day 
he  took  me  into  the  church  of  Notre  Dame,  carrying  me  in  iiis  arms, 
for  the  crowd  was  great.  My  attention  was  attracted  by  the  glass  of 
the  south  rose-window,  through  which  the  rays  of  the  sun  penetrated, 
colored  by  the  most  radiant  hues.  I still  seem  to  see  the  spot  where 
we  were  stopped  by  the  crowd.  Suddenly  the  grand  organs  broke 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  IDOL-MAKING. 


15 


into  music  ; to  me,  it  was  the  rose  before  my  eyes  which  sang.  My 
olcl  guide  sought  in  vain  to  undeceive  me  ; under  this  impression, 
more  and  more  lively  when  I imagined  that  such  panels  of  glass 
produced  the  grave  tones,  and  such  others  uttered  the  high  and 
piercing  ones,  I was  seized  with  such  great  terror  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  take  me  out.  It  seems,  therefore,  that  it  is  not  education 
alone  which  establishes  within  us  these  intimate  relations  between 
the  various  expressions  of  art. 

The  epochs  which  have  been  so  favored  by  Heaven  as  to  be  able  thus 
to  express  the  various  language  of  true  art,  must  ever  be  regarded  as 
the  most  precious  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind.  The  duration 
of  such  an  epoch  may  be  brief  ; but  this  detracts  no  more  from  its 
value  than  the  transient  life  of  a flower  injures  the  quality  of  its  per- 
fume, the  vivacity  of  its  colors,  or  the  admirable  purity  of  its  petals. 

We  have  many  misunderstandings  concerning  the  word  “ art  ” to  get 
rid  of;  it  must  be  understood  that  in  speaking  of  art  we  do  not 
refer  to  such  arts  as  that  of  the  veterinary  surgeon  or  that  of  verify- 
ing dates.  In  this  indiscriminate  use  of  the  word  we  have  forgotten 
its  origin  and  real  meaning;  for  art  is  well  born,  but  readily  falls 
into  bad  company.  We  must  rest  upon  the  principle  that  art,  like 
morality  and  reason,  is  a distinct  definite  unity.  Institutions  are 
different  and  variable  ; but  among  all  nations,  whatever  their  insti- 
tutions, morality  and  the  exercise  of  the  faculty  of  reason  are  invari- 
able; all  men  are  born  barbarous,  but  apt  to  comprehend  the 
immutable  rules  of  morality,  apt  to  reason  and  avail  themselves  of 
their  reasoning  powers  for  the  sake  of  self-preservation,  self-defence, 
and  possession,  enjoyment,  life.  These  three  faculties  of  compre- 
hending art,  of  teaching  and  practising  morality,  of  acting  intelli- 
gently, are  peculiar  to  man. 

A dog  makes  no  distinction  between  a stone  post  and  a statue, 
between  a picture  of  Titian  and  a curtain  ; and  if  Greek  birds 
have  ever  picked  at  grapes  painted  on  a panel,  it  is  because  such 
birds  were  not  made  like  those  of  our  day.  If,  as  is  pretended, 
Alexander’s  horse  neighed  on  beholding  the  portrait  of  his  master,  it 
was  because  Alexander’s  horse  was  more  than  an  animal.  But  there 
is  no  savage  who  will  not  see  in  a statue  the  representation  of  a being 
with  whom  he  is  familiar  ; yet  the  savage  will  make  no  distinction 
between  a statue  by  Phidias  and  a stone  carved  in  rude  semblance 
of  a human  being. 


1 G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


The  savage  attaches  to  such  an  image  an  idea  completely  foreign 
to  its  value  as  a piece  of  handiwork.  As  a child  he  has  been  told, 
“ This  coarsely  carved  block  is  the  god  who  presides  over  combats, 
who  will  give  you  victory  over  your  enemies  if  you  bring  fruits  to 
him  every  day.”  This  block,  however  shapeless,  becomes  in  his 
eyes  a superior  being  ; he  attributes  to  it  sentiments,  he  fears  it,  he 
sees  it  in  his  dreams  and  in  his  combats,  his  imagination  endows  it 
with  passions.  If  the  savage  is  an  Indian  or  an  Egyptian,  soon  he 
desires  that  this  imaginary  form  should  be  materialized.  To  this 
end,  why  should  he  seek  to  imitate  the  natural  forms  around  him? 
He  gives  his  idol  the  head  of  an  animal  on  a human  body;  he  adds 
ten  arms,  he  paints  it  with  red  or  blue.  He  has  been  struck  by  the 
proud,  noble,  or  ferocious  aspect  of  a certain  bird  of  prey  ; he  seizes 
the  principal  traits  of  this  aspect,  he  exaggerates  them,  he  instinc- 
tively idealizes  the  natural  lineaments,  and  he  places  this  head,  thus 
transformed,  on  his  god  of  combats.  No  one  dreams  of  disputing; 
all  accept  the  myth.  But  that  his  idol  may  obtain  due  respect,  it 
must  needs  be  colossal,  and  impose  as  much  by  its  grandeur  and  ap- 
parent material  power  as  by  its  combination  of  these  creative  ideas  ; 
or  it  must  be  withdrawn  from  public  gaze  in  some  sombre  place. 
So  it  is  carved  out  of  a rock,  or  placed  at  the  end  of  a narrow  crypt 
to  which  access  is  gained  only  by  passing  through  a diminishing 
series  of  grottos.  The  workman  himself,  who  gives  shape  to  this 
idea,  sees  nothing  strange  in  the  respect  and  terror  with  which  his 
fellows  enter  these  caves  ; he  himself  feels  the  same  sentiments, 
though  the  idol  is  the  work  of  his  own  hands.  While  engaged  in 
his  labor  he  is  entirely  occupied  with  the  purpose  of  giving  form  to 
his  imagination  ; lie  sees  only  the  stone  and  his  chisels.  But  when 
the  idol  is  finished  and  placed  in  its  crypt,  he  fears  it  and  renders  to 
it  the  same  homage  as  his  neighbor  who  had  no  hand  in  the  making 
of  it;  the  artist  has  become  the  dupe  of  his  own  workmanship;  he 
no  longer  beholds  the  brute  stone  to  which  he  lias  given  a form,  he 
sees  but  the  realization  of  his  thought  ; the  material  labor  has  passed 
from  his  recollection  ; his  handiwork  is  a god  for  him  as  for  all. 
Nor  must  it  be  supposed  that  this  disposition  of  the  human  mind  is 
peculiar  to  primitive  people  ; it  is  natural  to  all  men  and  in  all  times. 
The  intelligent  child  who  carves  a doll  out  of  a block  of  wood  will 
attribute  to  this  coarse  figure  ideas  and  thoughts  which  do  not  exist 
for  him  in  the  perfect  doll  from  the  toyshop  ; he  will  name  it,  he 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OP  IDOL-MAKING. 


17 


will  place  it  near  him  while  he  sleeps  ; sometimes,  I have  observed, 
this  image  will  be  but  a strange  assemblage  of  nameless  forms,  the 
product  of  a dream  of  the  young  mind  which  has  been  animated  by 
the  desire  of  expressing  an  idea  which  no  one  can  express  for  him  ; 
this  desire  is  art.  Thus  art  is  form  given  to  a thought,  and  the  artist 
who  creates  this  form  aims  thus  to  inspire  others  with  the  same  idea. 
For  the  architect,  art  is  the  sensible  expression,  the  material  public 
manifestation,  of  a satisfied  desire. 

Even  in  our  civilized  state,  do  we  not  every  day  see  children,  nay, 
grown  men,  prefer  an  imperfect,  conventional  image  to  a perfect 
engraving?  Do  we  not  see  them  attaching  to  this  imperfect  image 
ideas  which  do  not  exist  for  them  in  an  excellent  work  ? We  be- 
lieve this  sentiment  should  not  be  disdained  as  the  result  of  igno- 
rance. It  is  a sentiment  which  arises  from  a pure  source,  it  is  a 
necessity  ; though  indeed,  through  fault  of  education,  it  tends  towards 
barbarism. 

This  primitive  desire  which  prompts  men  to  create  idols  has  its  rise 
in  a concurrence  of  ideas  : (1.)  There  is  the  love  of  man  for  his  own 
handiwork,  the  sentiment  of  vanity  which  prompts  the  act  of  crea- 
tion ; (2.)  the  idea  of  especial  sanctity  which  the  object  created  ac- 
quires by  consecration  ; (3.)  the  consciousness  of  having  expressed 
divinity  in  creating  a work  outside  of  nature.  An  Indian  who  makes 
a monster  surmounted  by  an  elephant’s  head  and  possessing  ten  arms, 
is  certain  that  he  has  produced  a supernatural,  and  therefore  a divine 
work.  His  neighbors  on  beholding  this  idol  are  awe-stricken  ; for 
to  them  it  is  the  expression  of  divine  power.  All  people  have  begun 
by  making  their  statues  monstrous  before  dreaming  of  imitating 
nature.  The  earliest  heads  of  Medusa  among  the  Greeks  had  wild 
boar’s  tusks  and  enormous  jaws.  But  when  a people,  like  the 
Greeks,  unites  to  these  primitive  sentiments  of  art  the  love  of  the 
beautiful,  and  more  especially  is  offended  at  that  which  is  ugly,  in- 
harmonious, vulgar,  that  people  has  attained  the  highest  pinnacle  of 
art.  The  Greeks  finally  made  the  monstrous  head  of  Medusa  a mask 
of  ravishing  beauty,  but  the  sculptor,  nevertheless,  always  aimed  at 
producing  the  same  effect  of  terror  ; as  the  public  became  more  in- 
telligent and  polished,  he  understood  that  deformity  or  exaggeration 
would  rather  cause  disgust  than  fear,  and  it  became  his  task  to  teach 
them  how  a creature  could  be  malevolent  and  terrible  without  being 
ugly.  More  than  this,  — he  felt  that  the  intelligent  society  around 


18 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


him  could  be  moved  as  lie  desired  only  by  beauty,  and  that  beauty 
was  the  only  guise  under  which  his  idea  could  be  admitted  to  their 
hearts. 

Yet  such  an  epoch  may,  to  our  civilized  eyes,  be  barbarous,  that  is, 
delivered  up  to  fanaticism  governed  by  prejudices,  possessing  imper- 
fect laws,  living  under  an  insupportable  tyranny,  having  neither  ad- 
ministration nor  police,  holding  half  the  population  in  slavery,  and 
without  order  or  system.  All  this  does  not  prevent  art  from  being  a 
language  universally  understood  there. 

We  have  endeavored  to  explain  how  men  are  enlightened  by  the 
first  glimmerings  of  art.  Imagination  is  its  source;  imitation  of 
nature,  its  means.  Man,  absolutely  speaking,  cannot  create  ; he  can 
only,  by  bringing  together  and  comparing  the  elements  of  divine 
creation,  give  birth  to  what  may  be  called  a creation  of  a second 
order.  But  it  must  here  be  observed  that  the  human  imagina- 
tion would  produce  only  evasive  dreams  if  man  did  not  possess 
an  inward  impulse  which  forces  him  to  define  and  give  body  to 
those  dreams.  This  impulse  is  his  reason,  or  rather  his  power  of 
ratiocination. 

This  natural  faculty  indicates  to  him  that  the  more  the  creations 
of  his  imagination  depart  from  the  reality,  the  more  it  becomes  him 
to  give  to  the  material  traits  by  which  he  would  make  those  creations 
intelligible  to  the  eye,  a cohesion,  a harmonious  form.  The  human 
imagination  conceives  the  idea  of  a centaur,  that  is  to  say,  an  im- 
possible creature,  unlike  anything  in  nature,  an  animal  with  four  feet 
and  two  arms,  two  pairs  of  lungs,  two  hearts,  two  livers,  two  stom- 
achs, two  abdomens,  etc.  An  Iroquois  can  conceive  such  an  absurd- 
ity ; only  a Greek  has  succeeded,  by  means  of  his  faculty  of  ratioci- 
nation, in  giving  to  this  impossible  being  an  intelligible  form.  This 
faculty  led  him  to  observe  how  the  different  parts  of  an  animal  are 
mutually  united  : he  attached  the  spinal  column  of  a man  to  that  of 
a horse  ; the  shoulders  of  the  latter  gave  place  to  the  hips  of  the 
former.  He  joined  the  abdomen  of  the  man  to  the  breast  of  the 
quadruped  with  so  nice  an  address  that  the  most  skilful  might  be- 
lieve that  he  beheld  there  an  exact  and  delicate  study  from  nature. 
The  impossible  in  this  way  became  so  intelligible,  that  even  for  us 
to-day  the  centaur  seems  to  be  an  actual  being,  as  real  to  us  as  a dog 
or  cat.  But  there  comes  a philosopher,  who,  with  the  works  of 
Cuvier  in  his  hands,  demonstrates  that  this  creature  with  which  you 


TIIE  ANTAGONISM  BETWEEN  ABT  AND  SCIENCE.  19 


are  as  familiar  as  if  you  had  seen  him  running  in  the  woods,  could 
never  exist  ; that  it  is  a scientific  absurdity  ; that  it  could  neither 
walk  nor  digest  ; that  its  two  pairs  of  lungs,  its  two  hearts,  are  the 
most  ridiculous  of  suppositions.  Now,  which  is  the  barbarian,  the 
philosopher  or  the  Greek  sculptor?  Neither,  perhaps  ; but  the  philo- 
sophic observation  proves  to  us  that  art  and  the  exact  knowledge  of 
things,  art  and  science,  art  and  civilization,  may  be  very  distinct  from 
each  other.  How  does  it  affect  me,  an  artist,  when  a philosopher 
proves  to  me  that  a certain  creature  cannot  exist,  if  I have  a con- 
sciousness that  it  does  exist,  if  I am  familiar  with  its  gait  and  its 
habits,  if  in  imagination  I see  it  in  the  forest,  if  I attribute  to  it 
passions  and  instincts?  Why  deprive  me  of  this  possession?  Will 
the  philosopher  gain  anything  in  proving  to  me  that  I mistake 
chimeras  for  realities  ? Certainly  the  Greeks  of  the  age  of  Aristotle 
knew  enough  about  anatomy  to  recognize  the  fact  that  a centaur 
cannot  exist  ; but  they  respected  art  as  much  as  science,  and 
would  not  permit  them  to  reciprocally  destroy  each  other.  Artists 
at  once  comprehend  that  a nation  possessing  these  attributes  is 
not  barbarous.  In  Greek  sculpture,  how  many  scientific  irregu- 
larities we  behold,  how  many  anatomical  faults  ! Yet  whence  the 
nobility  which  seems  to  illuminate  its  works?  Why  does  a Greek 
statue,  though  in  the  midst  of  a museum,  mutilated,  out  of  place,  in 
a false  light,  mounted  on  a pedestal  too  often  ridiculous,  — why  does 
it  still  maintain  a bearing  so  distinguished  that  all  other  sculpture 
seems  awkward  and  vulgar  in  its  presence  ? Were  the  Athenians  all 
royal  in  their  bearing,  in  the  delicacy  and  beauty  of  their  forms  ? 
Certainly  not.  It  is  art  which  has  given  to  their  bodies  this  inimita- 
ble ideal  distinction  ; art  has  made  them  undergo  a new  creation. 
Art  may  be  found  among  other  people,  in  the  midst  of  other  civiliza- 
tions, but  it  must  ever  be  developed  in  the  same  manner,  its  principle 
must  proceed  from  the  imagination,  and  it  must  be  expressed  through 
nature,  not  by  becoming  her  slave,  but  by  knowing  her  secrets.  A 
sculptor  created  the  centaur,  and  knew  how  to  render  the  fiction  cred- 
ible by  scrupulously  observing  the  mechanism  and  the  minutest  details 
of  actual  creation  ; it.  is  by  the  excessive  delicacy  of  his  observation 
of  nature,  that  he  caused  his  creation  of  the  second  order  to  be 
recognized  by  all,  by  the  poet,  even,  who,  in  his  turn,  gave  to  this 
being  manners,  habits,  and  particular  ideas.  But  think  you  these 
kinds  of  creations  are  peculiar  to  primitive  people  ? Does  not  art 


20 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


to-day  intervene  to  give  an  appearance  of  reality  to  fiction  ? Hoes  it 
not  always  proceed  in  the  same  manner? 

Let  ns  suppose  yon  are  a poet  or  writer  of  romance  ; you  wish 
to  give  the  appearance  of  reality  to  a fable  ; you  imagine  some 
impossible  thing,  an  apparition,  for  instance  ; you  are  aware  that 
your  auditors  do  not  believe  in  apparitions  ; how  must  you  proceed, 
then,  to  cause  your  fable  to  affect  their  minds  as  with  the  impres- 
sion of  a real  event  ? You  take  pains  to  describe  the  locality  of 
your  story,  to  give  to  every  object  an  appearance  of  reality  ; every- 
thing in  your  picture  must  have  body,  every  person  must  be  clear 
and  distinct  in  features  and  in  character  ; you  leave  nothing  vague 
or  indecisive  ; and  when  your  scene  is  so  vividly  pictured  that  your 
auditors  have  become,  as  it  were,  actors  in  the  story,  let  your 
phantom  appear.  Immediately  all  that  which  is  improbable  in 
your  tale  will  assume  an  appearance  of  reality, — an  appearance  which 
will  be  striking  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  exactness  with  which 
your  preliminary  descriptions  have  been  traced  after  nature.  This 
is  art.  Helen,  in  the  Iliad,  would  be  but  an  odious  creature,  not- 
withstanding  her  beauty,  and  the  Trojan  war  the  most  ridiculous 
of  expeditions,  if  the  poet  had  not  been  an  artist  in  the  true  mean- 
ing of  the  word.  Had  he  dwelt  upon  the  charms  of  Helen,  had 
he  compared  them  to  lilies  and  roses,  the  reader  would  have  re- 
mained unmoved,  and  would  have  despised  them,  her,  her  lover, 
her  husband,  and  all  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  together.  The  poet 
does  better  than  describe  to  us  the  whiteness  of  her  skin  and  the 
sapphire  of  her  eyes  ; he  shows  us  the  old  men  of  Troy  seated 
together  and  engaged  in  the  most  bitter  discussion  concerning  the 
wife  of  Menelaus,  the  cause  of  their  long  sufferings  and  of  the 
death  of  so  many  warriors.  Helen  passes  by  ; instantly  the  old 
men  arise  and  are  silent  in  the  presence  of  her  majestic  beauty. 
This  is  the  sublimest  effect  of  art.  After  this  passage  of  the  Iliad 
every  reader  will  pardon  Paris,  and  will  understand  the  slaughter 
of  so  many  heroes  ; the  cause  of  the  war  no  longer  seems  absurd, 
and  its  attendant  misfortunes  and  disasters  are  imputed  to  Destiny. 
Thus  the  Greeks  still  remain  kings  of  art.  They  comprehended 
the  nature  of  man,  and,  better  than  this,  they  elevated  his  intellect, 
his  instincts,  passions,  and  sentiments  by  appealing  always  to  the 
noblest  side  of  his  character.  They  knew  how  to  depict  the  most 
vulgar  actions  and  objects  without  vulgarity.  Their  imitators  have 


THE  ARTISTIC  INSTINCT  STIELED  BY  CIVILIZATION.  21 


to  a greater  or  less  degree  approached  this  nobility  without  attaining 
it  ; for  to  equal  them,  it  needs  not  only  to  know  the  secret  of  then- 
art,  but  to  have,  like  them,  sympathy  and  appreciation  from  a whole 
nation.  Odi  profanum  vulgus  et  arceo,  said  Horace  ; but  Horace 
was  an  expatriated  Greek,  surrounded  by  barbarians.  There  was 
no  poet,  architect,  or  sculptor  of  Athens  who  could  have  had  occasion 
to  cry,  “ I hate  and  avoid  the  vulgar  rabble,”  — for  there  was  none 
such  there. 

The  art  which  we  discover  in  the  poetry  and  sculpture  of  the 
Greeks  we  also  find  in  their  architecture  ; for  a people  is  not  truly 
artistic,  unless  art  is  applied  to  all  the  works  of  its  hands  and  its 
intelligence.  Architecture,  moreover,  is,  with  music,  one  of  the  forms 
of  art  in  which  the  creative  faculty  of  man  is  most  independently 
developed.  It  does  not  receive  its  inspirations  from  natural  objects, 
but  follows  laws  established  to  meet  certain  necessities.  These  laws 
are  the  result  of  reasoning.  But  how  and  why  does  art  concern  itself 
with  the  simple  satisfaction  of  a material  desire  ? Because  art  is 
born  with  man,  and,  unless  his  nature  is  perverted,  it  is  perhaps  his 
first  desire 

Education  alone  can  stifle  this  inner  sentiment,  and,  unhappily, 
this  sad  result  is  too  often  reached  in  times  especially  proud  of  their 
civilization.  Art  is  perhaps  the  most  delicate  of  human  instincts  ; 
as  soon  as  one  can  hear  and  see,  he  possesses  it  ; its  purity  is  readily 
lost,  but  to  develop  it  is  a task  at  all  times  difficult,  and  especially 
so  in  the  midst  of  a civilization  like  ours,  which  pretends  to  direct 
every  individual  according  to  certain  conventionalities  and  doctrines. 
Now,  we  cannot  direct  art  among  a people  ; we  can  only  create  an 
atmosphere  favorable  to  its  development.  It  is  the  greatest  and  the 
imperishable  glory  of  Greece  that  her  civilization  admirably  under- 
stood this  principle. 

W e suffer  a wrong  to-day  which  we  cannot  remedy  ; we  have 
come  too  late  into  the  world.  The  ancients,  in  preceding  us,  have 
robbed  us  of  the  simple  and  beautiful  ideas  which  we  otherwise 
perhaps  would  have  had.  We  cannot,  like  them,  act  according  to  a 
unique  system.  With  us,  the  duty  of  the  artist  has  become  very 
difficult.  We  labor  under  an  infinity  of  old  prejudices  and  habits 
belonging  to  dead  civilizations,  and  besides  these,  we  have  our  own 
complex  modern  needs,  habits,  and  conventionalities.  But,  like  the 
ancients,  we  still  retain  the  faculty  of  reasoning  and,  to  a certain 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


oo 


extent,  that  of  feeling.  It  is  by  means  of  these  two  faculties  that  we 
should  seek  for  the  true  and  beautiful.  . I am  convinced  that  we 
can  bring  the  taste  of  our  generation  to  perfection  by  making  it 
reason.  Observe  that,  in  many  cases,  reason  accounts  for  the  judg- 
ment which  taste  has  pronounced.  Very  often  (perhaps  always)  the 
sentiment  of  taste  is  but  an  involuntary  and  inappreciable  act  of 
reason.  To  acquire  taste  is  only  to  become  habituated  to  the  good 
and  the  beautiful  ; but  to  become  habituated  to  the  beautiful  we 
must  learn  how  to  find,  or  rather  how  to  choose  it  ; now,  to  enable 
us  to  make  this  choice,  we  must  call  to  our  aid  the  faculty  of  reason- 
ing. On  beholding  a certain  building  our  whole  spirit  is  at  once 
charmed,  and  we  cry,  “ What  a beautiful  structure  ! ” But  this  in- 
stinctive judgment  is  not  enough  for  us  artists  ; we  ask  ourselves, 
“ Why  is  this  structure  beautiful?  ” We  wish  to  discover  the  causes 
of  the  effect  which  it  produces  on  us  ; and  in  order  to  do  this,  we 
must  have  recourse  to  reason.  We  then  seek  to  analyze  all  parts  of 
the  work  which  charms  us,  so  that  we  may  avail  ourselves  of  the 
composition  when  we  would  design  in  our  turn.  Embarrassed  as 
we  are  by  prejudices  and  doctrines,  all  of  which  have  the  singular 
pretension  of  being  absolute,  this  analysis  is  at  the  present  day  diffi- 
cult. Let  us,  however,  endeavor  to  free  ourselves  from  these  embar- 
rassments. 

I 1 relieve  that  I have  shown  how  a people  may  be  barbarous 
and  yet  possess  highly  developed  arts  ; how  the  presence  of  art  is 
recognized  in  a human  work  ; how  it  happens  that  art  may  dwell  in 
a cabin  or  a cave  and  be  excluded  from  the  palace  or  from  the  great- 
est temple  : it  remains  for  me  to  indicate  what  social  conditions  are 
most  favorable  to  its  development.  This  question  cannot  be  solved 
in  a paragraph.  I propose  to  consider  it  in  future  discourses.  At 
present  I confine  myself  to  laying  down  some  general  principles. 

The  arts  have  been  developed  and  have  fallen  into  decay  under  all 
social  forms  ; under  the  theocratic  government  of  the  Egyptians,  un- 
der the  capricious  and  unsteady  government  of  the  Greeks,  under  the 
administrative  government  of  the  Romans,  under  the  oligarchical  or 
anarchical  republics  of  Italy,  and  under  the  feudal  yoke  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  That  which  we  call  form  of  government,  therefore,  has  no 
influence  over  art.  Arts,  on  the  contrary,  are  actively  developed  when 
they  are  associated  with  and  express  the  manners  and  customs  ot  a 
nation  ; but  when  separated  from  those  manners  to  form,  as  it  were, 


THE  ARTISTIC  INSTINCT  STIFLED  BY  CIVILIZATION.  23 


an  institution  apart  from  them,  the  arts  decline,  gradually  become 
shut  up  and  isolated  in  academies,  and  presently  adopt  a language 
and  a manner  of  expression  no  longer  rational.  Then  art  is  like  a 
foreigner,  only  occasionally  entertained,  and  strange  to  the  ordinary 
life  of  the  people  ; and  finally  it  disappears,  for  it  becomes  an  em- 
barrassment instead  of  an  assistance  ; it  pretends  to  rule,  but  has  no 
subjects.  Art  can  live  only  when  free  in  its  expression  but  submis- 
sive in  its  principles  ; it  dies  when,  on  the  contrary,  its  principle  is 
forgotten  and  its  expression  enslaved.  Art  became  extinct  among 
the  Greeks  when  their  genius  was  stifled  under  the  Roman  yoke,  and 
when  they  wished  to  build  at  Athens  monuments  like  those  of  Rome. 
Nearer  to  our  own  time,  the  arts  of  the  Middle  Ages  accompanied  step 
by  step  the  manners  of  the  people  among  whom  they  were  developed  ; 
they  participated  in  the  grand  intellectual  movement  of  the  sixteenth 
century  ; under  Louis  XIV.  they  were  still  the  living  expression  of  the 
manners  of  the  time  ; but,  like  those  manners,  they  were  exceptional, 
a kind  of  theatrical  representation  which  finished  with  the  reign  of 
that  prince.  Since  then  our  manners  have  undergone  a singular 
modification,  and  in  the  seventeenth  century  art  ceased  to  develop 
form.  As  for  its  principles,  they  have  been  buried  ; my  readers 
shall  judge  of  this. 

I perceive  that  all  primitive  civilizations  had  the  same  physical 
and  intellectual  needs,  and  possessed  nearly  the  same  creative  power 
as  regards  art,  in  which  they  expressed  a certain  simple  and  very 
restricted  order  of  ideas.  The  task  of  the  artist  was  then  compara- 
tively easy  ; he  was  not  obliged  to  load  his  memory  with  that  multi- 
tude of  details  which,  with  us,  impede  even  the  earliest  natural 
flights  of  imagination  ; he  was  embarrassed  by  no  accumulation  of 
precedent.  The  first  of  all  sciences,  that  of  the  human  heart,  is  easy 
to  acquire,  when,  as  happens  among  people  whose  civilization  is  but 
slightly  developed,  everybody  lives  openly  in  the  fields  or  in  the 
public  places,  and  when  the  sentiments,  passions,  vices,  virtues,  tastes, 
and  desires  of  mankind  are  subject  to  none  of  the  artificial  restric- 
tions of  custom.  The  primitive  artist  was  but  an  observer,  not  a 
student  ; he  made  the  most  of  a social  state  whose  simple  mechanism 
was  always  before  his  eyes.  Thus  the  Egyptians,  the  Eastern  and 
Western  Greeks,  and  the  Etruscans,  whose  monuments  are  familiar  to 
us,  give  evidence,  in  their  art,  of  an  observation  of  gesture  so  truth- 
fid  and  delicate  that  modern  effort  is  challenged  in  vain  to  surpass  it. 


24 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


This  same  peculiarity  we  again  recognize  in  the  West  in  the  twelfth 
century.  The  Trench  sculptors  and  painters  of  that  era,  though  they 
had  taken  no  lessons  in  style  before  the  bas-reliefs  of  Thebes,  or 
the  vases  of  Etruria  and  Greece,  followed  the  same  principles  as  the 
artists  of  antiquity.  This  concurrence  arises  from  the  fact  that  all 
these  artists  deduced  their  results  from  the  same  phenomena.  Ges- 
ture can  be  reproduced  in  the  plastic  arts  only  when  it  is  the  expo- 
nent of  a simple  sentiment,  and  sentiment  is  simple  only  among 
primitive  men.  In  a highly  civilized  state,  on  the  other  hand,  all 
sentiment  is  complex,  divided.  When  the  wife  of  a savage  dies,  he 
only  comprehends  that  he  has  lost  a being  with  whom  he  has  lived. 
But  to  the  immediate  grief  caused  by  such  a fact  a civilized  man 
unites  other  sentiments  : embarrassments,  fears,  hopes  of  fortune 
raised  or  lost,  all  the  altered  details  of  a very  complicated  state  of 
existence.  How  can  so  many  sentiments  be  expressed  by  a gesture  ? 
If,  then,  we  may  infer  from  their  gestures  how  far  men  are  advanced 
in  civilization,  and  if  among  civilized  and  refined  people  gestures 
cease  entirely,  what  is  left  to  inspire  the  plastic  arts?  Must  the 
modern  artist,  when  he  would  express  a sentiment  in  his  art,  content 
himself  with  an  imitation  of  gesture,  as  interpreted  in  the  sculpture 
and  pottery  of  his  rude  forefathers  ? Such  a second-hand  proceed- 
ing would  seem  to  be  pedantic,  false,  and  artificial  ; the  artist  is  no 
longer  understood  by  his  contemporaries.  He  seeks  style,  and  speaks 
of  it  among  a people  who  are  not  in  a condition  to  know  what  style 
is  ; whereas  the  primitive  artist  unconsciously  expressed  style  in  his 
works  and  was  universally  comprehended. 

That  which  we  say  of  gesture  may  be  applied  to  the  whole  do- 
' main  of  art.  It  is  easy  for  an  architect  to  erect  a temple  in  honor  of 
a mythical  divinity,  the  representative  of  a passion,  a principle,  or 
even  of  a part  of  the  order  of  creation  ; for  this  myth  has  a body,  a 
sensible  appearance,  attributes  ; such  a thing  belongs  to  him,  such 
another  is  adverse  to  him.  But  to  build  a temple  to  the  Christian 
God  is  a more  difficult  task  ; for  in  Him  everything  is  united,  He 
presides  over  all,  He  is  the  beginning  and  the  end,  He  is  space. 
How  can  we  make  a dwelling  for  Him  who  is  everywhere,  how  can 
Ave  express  in  stone  this  abstract  idea  of  Divinity,  Iioav  make  it  under- 
stood that  an  edifice  is  the  house  of  God  ? The  mediaeval  artists 
undertook  this  task  with  some  success;  and  how?  They  made  the 
Christian  church  an  exponent  of  creation,  as  it  were  ; they  expressed 


CONSTRUCTION  OF  A GREEK  TEMPLE. 


ART  TO  PROGRESS  BY  PRINCIPLES,  NOT  BY  IMITATIONS. 


in  it,  as  in  an  epic  of  universal  stone,  all  tilings  in  the  visible  and 
invisible  order  of  creation.  The  task  was  imposed  upon  them,  and 
their  glory  is  all  the  greater  if  they  succeeded. 

We  should  therefore  be  modest,  and  consider  carefully  before  ap- 
plying the  epithet  of  barbarians  to  those  who  have  preceded  us  in  art. 
Yet  I am  not  among  these  who  despair  of  the  present  while  gazing 
regretfully  at  the  past.  The  past  is  irrevocable  ; but  it  becomes  us  to 
study  it  with  care  and  sincerity,  to  cherish  it,  not  that  we  may  re- 
vive, but  that  we  may  understand  and  be  made  wise  by  it  for  the 
fulfilling  of  our  own  duties.  I cannot  admit  the  propriety  of  im- 
posing upon  our  own  age  any  reproduction  of  antique  or  mediaeval 
forms  of  art,  or  those  of  the  academies  of  Louis  XIV.,  precisely 
because  those  forms  were  the  exponents  of  the  times  to  which  they 
belonged,  and  because  the  manners  and  customs  and  requirements  of 
this  nineteenth  century  do  not  resemble  those  either  of  the  Greeks, 
the  Romans,  the  feudal  epochs,  or  the  seventeenth  century  ; but  the 
principles  which  guided  the  art  of  the  past  are  true,  and  the  same  for 
all  time,  and  will  never  change  so  long  as  men  are  made  of  the  same 
clay.  Let  us,  then,  endeavor  to  submit  ourselves  anew  to  them  ; let 
us  examine  how  our  predecessors  translated  these  principles  by  forms 
which  were  the  true  art  expression  of  their  respective  eras,  and  then, 
with  the  best  wisdom  of  experience,  let  us  proceed  freely  and  unim- 
peded by  narrow  prejudice  in  what  we  may  justly  call  the  path  of 
prog  ress.  Since,  in  the  midst  of  the  modern  chaos,  reason  has  not 
deserted  us,  let  us  use  this  divine  faculty  to  guide  and  control  our 
practice  in  art. 


SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


CONCERNING  PRIMITIVE  METHODS  OF  CONSTRUCTION  AS  PRACTISED  IN  GREEK 

ARCHITECTURE. 

N the  preceding  discourse  I have  endeavored  to  de- 
tine what  I understand  by  Art,  to  explain  how  it  is 
developed,  the  principles  of  its  progress,  its  different 
expressions.  We  must  now  limit  our  subject,  and 
occupy  ourselves  more  especially  with  one  of  the  forms 
of  art,  — Architecture.  I shall  speak  but  incidentally 
of  the  architecture  previous  to  the  Greek  epoch,  my  aim  being  to 
treat  of  the  systems  used  by  the  nations  of  the  West,  — systems 
whose  spirit,  development,  and  methods  have  been  directed  towards 
the  same  idea  of  incessant  progress.  Now,  the  Greeks  were  the 
first  who  opened  the  path  of  progress  to  the  civilizations  of  the 
W est.  ; the  first  who  threw  aside  the  swaddling-clothes  in  which  the 
East  seemed  enveloped,  and  desirous  of  enveloping  the  whole  world 
forever. 

Let  us,  then,  enter  at  once  upon  our  subject. 

There  still  remain  in  Greece  and  in  her  colonies  monuments  of 
great  antiquity  and  of  immense  interest  to  archaeology,  but  of  whose 
origin,  history,  structure,  and  destination  I know  too  little  to  be  jus- 
tified in  dwelling  on  them  here.  I would  not  incur  the  reproach  of 
speaking  concerning  things  unfamiliar  to  me.  Let  other  professors, 
much  more  versed  than  I in  this  particular  study,  impart  elsewhere 
the  results  of  their  researches  ; all  that  I could  say  regarding  monu- 
ments which  I have  not  myself  examined,  drawn,  measured,  and 
analyzed,  and  with  which  I am  acquainted  only  by  descriptions  or 
engravings,  would  have  but  little  value  when  compared  with  the 
learned  discussions  of  those  who  have  devoted  themselves  to  such 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  GREEK  TEMPLE. 


27 


specialties.  So  far  as  practicable,  I propose  to  treat  only  of  that 
which  I have  seen,  and  which,  consequently,  I,  as  an  architect,  can 
exactly  describe  and  appreciate.  I would  add  that  I would  not 
venture  to  speak  of  the  origins  and , qualities,  the  progress,  errors, 
and  decline  of  an  art,  unless  I had  devoted  my  leisure  to  studying 
it  at  length,  to  penetrating  its  mysteries  and  understanding  its  lan- 
guage. I trust  my  readers  will  appreciate  any  reticence  I prefer 
to  maintain  because  of  my  feeble  respect  for  preconceived  ideas, 
and  because  I have  not  the  happy  faculty  of  speaking  about  what 
I do  not  know. 

Many  authors  and  professors  have  pretended  that  Greek  temples 
of  stone  or  marble  are,  as  structures,  but  traditions  of  wooden  con- 
struction. This  hypothesis  may  be  ingenious,  but  it  does  not  ap- 
pear to  me  to  be  based  on  an  attentive  observation  of  the  monuments 
in  question.  Those  who  first  maintained  this  hypothesis  had  no 
knowledge,  or,  at  most,  but  a very  superficial  knowledge,  of  Greek 
architecture,  and,  as  often  happens,  subsequent  authors,  writing  on 
the  same  subject,  have  found  it  more  easy  to  reproduce  this  hypothe- 
sis than  to  examine  critically  into  its  probability.  “ The  Greek  tem- 
ple,” most  of  them  assert,  “ is  derived  from  construction  in  carpen- 
try ; the  columns  are  barked  trees  ; the  capitals  are  pieces  of  wood 
serving  as  projecting  caps  to  receive  the  horizontal  beams  ; the  tri- 
glvphs  are  the  ends  of  the  joists  over  the  porticos  ; the  inclined 
eaves,  the  extremities  of  the  rafters  of  the  roof  upon  which  a plank 
is  nailed  ” ; and  so  on.  At  first  sight  all  this  appears  plausible  ; but 
the  theory  encounters  a difficulty  in  the  very  outset.  This  is,  that 
primitive  wooden  structures  were  circular,  composed  of  a series  of 
trunks  of  trees  whose  bases  were  planted  on  the  circumference  of  a 
circle,  and  whose  summits  were  brought  together  conically.  Even 
Vitruvius,  an  author  worth  consulting  for  the  sake  of  his  antiq- 
uity, who  gives  us  all  the  stories  probably  extant  in  the  schools  of 
his  day  about  the  origin  of  Ionic  and  Corinthian  capitals,  but  who 
was  a critic  of  only  ordinary  abilities,  notwithstanding  the  respect 
which  is  due  to  him,  — Vitruvius  speaks  of  the  primitive  wooden 
cabin,  and  he  is  far  from  pretending  that  such  forms  were  imitated 
in  the  Doric  temples  of  Greece.  Hear  what  he  says  in  Chapter  III. 
Book  II.  : — 

“ At  first  men  made  their  huts  of  poles  disposed  conically,  inter- 
laced with  branches  and  plastered  with  clay.  Some  built  walls  with 


28 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


blocks  of  dried  mud  ; then  laying  pieces  of  wood  across  the  top,  they 
covered  them  with  reeds  and  leaves  as  a protection  against  the  heat 
and  rain  ; but,  as  these  coverings  would  not  guard  against  the 
weather  in  winter,  they  at  length  inclined  the  roofs  and  plastered 
them  with  clay,  to  enable  them  to  shed  water.” 

But  here  the  text  of  Vitruvius  becomes  more  curious  : “ It  is  evi- 
dent that  the  earliest  habitations  were  built  in  this  manner,  from  the 
fact  that  even  now,  in  Gaul,  Hispania,  Portugal,  and  Aquitania,  simi- 
lar structures  may  be  seen,  covered  with  split  oak  shingles  or  vine 
branches.  Among  the  people  of  Asia  Minor  and  Colchis,  where 
forests  are  abundant,  we  find  similar  buildings.  After  laying  hori- 
zontally on  the  right  and  left  two  trunks  of  trees  their  own  length 
apart,  the  natives  place  two  others  at  right  angles  across  their  ends, 
to  enclose  the  space  destined  for  the  habitation.  Then  they  lay  upon 
these  along  the  sides  of  the  square  other  trunks  in  a similar  manner, 
their  ends  resting  on  the  angles,  and  by  successive  layers  at  length 
reach  the  requisite  height  ; the  spaces  between  are  filled  with  chips 
and  mud.  For  the  roof,  they  continue  these  successive  layers,  using 
shorter  and  shorter  trunks,  till  they  reach  the  apex  of  a pyramid  ; 
and,  covering  the  whole  with  leaves  and  clay,  they  compose,  in  their 
barbarous  way,  a tent-like  roof.  But  the  country-people  of  Phrygia, 
having  no  forests  to  furnish  materials,  excavate  the  natural  hillocks, 
with  a hollow,  trough-like  path  to  give  access  to  the  interior  as  well 
as  circumstances  permit  ; around  the  space  thus  excavated  poles  are 
planted,  inclining  conically  towards  a common  centre  where  they  are 
secured  ; these  they  cover  with  thatch  and  reeds,  and  heap  earth  over 
the  whole  cone,  thus  rendering  their  huts  warm  in  winter  and  cool 
in  summer.  In  other  countries  the  houses  are  covered  with  marsh 
reeds.  At  Athens  the  huts  of  the  Areopagus,  built  of  mud,  are  still 
exhibited  as  a curiosity  on  account  of  their  antiquity  ; and  in  our 
own  capital  the  cabin  of  Romulus,  covered  with  thatch,  enables  us 
to  understand  this  primitive  method  of  building.” 

These  examples  are  enough  to  prove  that  the  primitive  wooden 
hut  has  no  resemblance  to  a Greek  temple  ; it  is  almost  always  a 
cone  or  a pyramid,  and,  in  fact,  the  first  idea  naturally  suggested  by 
the  necessity  of  making  a shelter  with  trees,  is  to  plant  them  in  a 
circle  and  bring  them  together  at  their  summits.  To  this  day  the 
savage  tribes  of  Africa  pursue  this  course. 

But  let  us  come  to  details  : Let  us  suppose  that  a man,  knowing 


THEORY  OF  CONSTRUCTION  IN  WOOD. 


29 


nothing  about  construction,  wishes  to  lay  pieces  of  wood  across  the 
tops  of  posts  ; let  us  suppose  that  this  man  is  intelligent,  as  were  cer- 
tainly the  indigenous  or  aboriginal  peoples  of  Greece  ; and  that  he 
has  at  least  invented  the  hatchet,  if  not  the  saw  and  the  plane.  The 
first  idea  which  will  suggest  itself  to  him,  in  order  to  bring  the  posts 
into  line,  — a necessary  provision  if  he  would  unite  them  above  by  a 
cross-beam,  — will  be  to  square  them  ; for,  as  the  trunks  of  trees  are 
almost  always  twisted,  they  cannot  otherwise  be  brought  into  a strict 
line.  This  intelligent  man  (let  us  not  lose  sight  of  this  point)  has 
observed  that  the  trunks  of  trees,  when  raised  horizontally  by  their 
two  extremities,  bend  in  the  middle  with  their  own  weight,  and 
especially  so  if  they  support  a burden  ; he  lays  then,  between  the 
top  of  each  post  and  the  horizontal  beam  above,  an  intermediate 
piece  of  wood,  in  order  to  diminish  the  space  between  the  bearing 
points.  Tor  this  purpose  he  will  scarcely  employ  a square  slab  of 


wood,  such  as  is  indicated  in  Tig.  1 at  A,  that  is  to  say,  a piece 
very  difficult  to  procure  on  account  of  its  width  being  much  greater 
than  the  diameter  of  the  posts,  and  above  all  very  difficult  to  cut  and 
dress  without  the  aid  of  tools  which  he  does  not  possess.  Certainly 
such  a piece  of  wood  for  the  capital  of  his  post  would  ease  but 
slightly  the  bearing  of  the  horizonal  beam.  He  would  not  give 
himself  so  much  trouble  to  obtain  a result  so  insignificant;  but  he 
would  cut  a piece  of  wood  of  a certain  length,  and  in  width  equal 
to  the  thickness  of  the  post,  and  placing  it  between  the  to])  of 
the  post  and  the  horizontal  beam,  parallel  with  the  latter,  would 


Fig.  1. 


30 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


obtain  an  actual  support  to  ease  the  bearing  of  the  beam  by  means 
of  the  two  prominent  projections,  B as  indicated  in  Fig.  2.  This 

Fig.  2. 


is  real  wooden  construction,  such  as  we  see  imitated  in  stone 
in  the  monuments  of  India  and  even  in  those  recently  discovered 
at  Nineveh. 

But  the  square,  wooden  post  has  four  incommodious  corners,  which 
the  primitive  constructor  proceeds  to  hew  down,  and  thus  forms  an 
octagonal  prism.  The  last  form  adopted  for  the  posts  is  cylindrical, 
as,  to  produce  this  form,  requires  a higher  degree  of  skill  in  car- 
pentry than  merely  to  reduce  them  to  the  square  section.  Indeed, 
if  we  would  reach  rational  conclusions  regarding  the  formation 
of  primitive  systems  of  construction,  it  is  far  better  to  consult 
the  skilled  workman  who  can  supply  us  with  reasons  based  upon 

Fig.  3. 


practical  experience,  than  to  depend  upon  mere  theories,  however 
ingeniously  applied. 


DERIVATION  OE  CERTAIN  ORIENTAL  FORMS. 


31 


Tlie  primitive  architecture  of  the  people  of  the  far  East  (that  com- 
mon source  of  all  arts),  in  its  general  characteristics  as  in  its  details, 
furnishes  us,  more  than  any  other,  with  constructions  in  stone  imitated 
from  those  in  wood,  the  Indian  architects  carrying  this  point  so  far 
as,  in  the  ceilings  of  their  rock-cut  temples,  to  copy  joists  and  planks. 
Many  Chinese  houses,  for  example,  have  wooden  porticos  whose  lin- 
tels are  supported  by  posts  assisted  by  brackets  made  of  curved 
pieces  of  wood  as  indicated  in  Eig.  3 ; while  in  the  crypts  of 
Ganessa,  at  Cuttack,  in  India,  the  supporting  pillars  of  stone  have 
a similar  form  as  represented  in  Eig.  4.*  Other  pillars,  in  one  of 
the  temples  of  Ajunta,  are  constructed  as  in  Eig.  5.  In  these  two 

Fig.  4. 


examples  the  bracketed  capitals  supporting  the  rock-cut  beams  arc 
evidently  reminiscences  of  wood  and  wooden  constructions.  The 
pillar  with  the  square  base  in  Example  5,  which  passes  to  the 
octagonal  form  and  then  to  the  sixteen-sided  polygon,  and  finally 
returns  to  the  octagonal  and  the  square  at  the  summit,  suggests 

* See  “The  Illustrated  Handbook  of  Architecture,”  being  a concise  and  popular  account  of 
the  different  styles  of  architecture  prevailing  in  all  ages  and  countries.  By  J.  Fergusson. 
London.  1855.  Vol.  I. 


32 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


wooden  construction  much  more  readily  than  stone.  Any  one 
will  appreciate  this  who  has  endeavored  so  to  manage  a wooden 
support  as  to  obtain  the  greatest  strength,  firmness,  and  extent 
of  bearing  which  the  material  will  allow. 

Fig.  5. 


* ' ’.AA  • 


w e are  familiar  with  all  the  capitals  of  the  ruins  of  Persepolis  ; 
among  them  are  many  having  the  form  indicated  in  Pig.  G.  Now, 
even  to  this  day,  the  peasants’  huts  in  Assyria  and  Persia  have  roofs 
supported  by  forked  posts,  as  represented  in  Pig.  7 ; this  fact  doubt- 


DERIVATION  OF  ORIENTAL  FORMS. 


33 


Figs.  6 and  7. 


less  gives  us  the  origin  of  the  stone  Persepolitan  capitals.  This  forked 
form  lias  a double  advantage  ; it  not  only  supports  the  lintel  or  girth 

Fig.  8. 


along  the  face  of  the  building,  but  it  allows  the  insertion,  between 

the  forks  and  under  the  girth,  of  a horizontal  beam  perpendicular  to 
3 


34 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  latter,  to  support  the  joists  of  the,  floor,  which  is  thus  included 
in  the  thickness  of  the  lintel  or  girth  on  the  face  of  the  building. 
Fig.  8 explains  this  primitive  carpentry,  in  which  the  advantage  is 
gained  of  avoiding  the  mortises  and  tenons  used  to  effect  similar 
results  when  tools  and  all  the  means  of  construction  had  been  per- 
fected. 

Such  are  the  wooden  structures  which  were  imitated  in  stone 
by  the  nations  of  Asia.  What  remains  to  us  of  their  monuments, 
whether  built  or  excavated  in  the  rock,  demonstrates  this  fact  in 
the  most  striking  manner.  If  still  more  remarkable  examples  of 
this  fact  are  needed,  observe,  in  the  engravings  of  M.  Texier,  the 
rock-cut  tombs  of  Asia  Minor, — those  crypts  whose  bays  might 
almost  be  mistaken  for  constructions  in  wood.  The  primitive 
structures  of  Central  America  * present  the  same  peculiarities. 
Imitations  of  primitive  wooden  construction,  even  in  the  most 
minute  details,  appear  in  the  earliest  Eastern  structures.  Thus  we 
frequently  see  on  the  summit  of  pillars  successive  rolls,  or  volutes,  — 

Fig.  9. 


a decoration  represented  in  Fig.  9,  evidently  suggested  by  the 
shavings  left  by  the  carpenter  when  bringing  his  wooden  posts  to 
a square.  The  ornaments  of  the  structures  include  chaplets  of 
beads  and  a quantity  of  that  kind  of  engraving  so  easy  to  execute 
in  wood,  and  of  which  all  primitive  peoples  are  so  prodigal.  If 
from  details  we  pass  to  the  examination  of  general  designs,  we 
discover  in  India  certain  stone  edifices,  which  singularly  recall  the 
wooden  pyramid  described  by  Vitruvius,  that  is,  an  assemblage  of 
tree-trunks  or  bamboos  laid  horizontally  upon  each  other  in  retreat 
from  the  base  to  the  summit  of  the  roof;  f we  find  others  which  dis- 


* Among  others  those  of  Chunjuju  and  Zayi. 
t The  temple  of  Barolli,  the  pagoda  of  Kanaruc,  etc. 


THE  LYCIAN  SARCOPHAGUS. 


35 


tinctly  recall  the  form  of  immense  baskets  of  bamboo  wicker-work, 
adorned  with  garlands  of  pearls,  little  figures,  bands,  and  rings. 

Houses  are  still  built  in  India  with  vertical  walls  of  bamboo 
wicker-work,  plastered  with  clay,  and  roofed  in  with  wicker-work, 
covered  with  leaves,  reeds,  or  osiers  (Fig.  10).  In  the  same  country 
some  very  ancient  buildings  in  stone  reproduce  this  form. 

Fig.  10. 


To  conclude  this  general  review  of  wooden  constructions,  let  us 
examine  the  Lycian  sarcophagus,  at  the  British  Museum,  a work 
which  durably  reproduces  monuments  which  were  built  of  wood  in 
that  country  at  a very  remote  epoch.  It  is  cut  in  three  blocks  of 
stone  in  the  form  of  an  enormous  wooden  chest,  with  all  its  details 
of  framing,  including  posts,  cross-pieces,  rafters,  and  panels,  like 
a great  wooden  cover  over  a sarcophagus  of  marble.  If,  as  its 
sculpture  leads  us  to  suppose,  this  tomb  is  not  a work  of  a very  re- 
mote period,  it  seems  to  afford  us  additional  proof  that  when  the 
people  of  Asia  Minor  and  Greece  undertook  to  imitate  wooden  con- 
struction in  stone  they  followed  that  construction  very  frankly.  The 
modifiions  or  mutules  with  which  it  is  adorned,  unlike  those  of  the 
Greek  temple,  appear  only  on  the  sides,  and  its  posts  are  square  in 
section  and  not  cylindrical.  It  has  a curvilinear  gable  roof  resting 
upon  purlins,  in  all  respects  according  to  the  primitive  conditions  of 
wooden  structures.  The  ridge  is  in  the  form  of  two  planks  carved 
on  the  exposed  faces.  The  joists  of  the  intermediate  floor  are 
represented  as  notched  upon  the  longitudinal  cross-beam,  as  if  to 
prevent  the  spreading  of  the  frame,  and  the  extremities  of  the  joists 
of  the  upper  floor  are  secured  between  two  plates  or  binding-pieces. 
The  feet  of  the  four  posts  are  fastened  to  the  two  barrow-shafts  of 
the  sarcophagus  by  means  of  keys  perfectly  indicated.  This  monu- 
ment, therefore,  not  only  reveals  the  curious  fact  that  originally, 


30 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


among  the  people  of  Asia  Minor,  the  body  was  placed  in  a stone  or 
marble  sarcophagus,  covered  by  a Avooden  chest,  but,  in  a wider 
sense,  it  proves,  for  the  reasons  indicated,  that  the  Greek  temple  is  a 
stone  construction,  and  not  an  imitation  of  wooden  construction. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  meanwhile,  that,  if  the  immense  continent 
from  China  to  the  Caspian,  from  the  Black  Sea  to  the  Persian  Gulf, 
has  at  all  times  — thanks  to  its  high  mountains,  to  the  extraordinary 
fertility  of  its  valleys  watered  by  great  rivers,  to  its  swamps  and  its 
climate  — supplied  wood  of  all  kinds  in  abundance,  the  same  cannot 
be  said  of  Greece.  I admit  that  its  soil,  now  quite  stripped,  may 
have  nourished  some  forests  ; but  what  were  these,  compared  with 
the  luxurious  growths  of  India  ? Greece  never  possessed  the  gigan- 
tic bamboos  and  reeds  of  that  country,  which  are  so  well  adapted  to 
building,  and  if  forests  fit  for  such  purposes  ever  did  exist  there, 
they  must  have  soon  disappeared.  Let  us,  then,  examine  the  real 
construction  of  the  Greek  temple. 

In  the  first  place,  what  are  the  conditions  to  be  fulfilled?  It  is 
required  to  build  a cell  a,  or  enclosed  room,  surrounded  with  porti- 
cos to  protect  and  shade  it.  Nothing  is  more  simple  : four  walls, 
pierced  on  the  two  ends  with  doors  ; around,  a series  of  supports 
bearing  lintels,  themselves  protected  by  a projecting  cornice  ; and, 
above  the  whole,  a roof  sloping  over  the  two  longitudinal  sides  to 
shed  the  rain.  These  conditions  are  dictated  by  reason  alone. 
How  are  they  met  ? 

The  architect  seeks  a quarry  near  by.  He  experiences  no  difficul- 
ty in  this  respect,  as  Greece  and  Sicily  are  well  supplied  with  lime- 
stone, and  as  Greek  cities  are  generally  built  on  the  level  summits, 
or  on  the  sides  of  hills,  with  an  acropolis  in  the  midst,  that  is,  a rock 
with  natural  or  artificial  steeps,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  promon- 
tories and  mountains,  all  furnishing  abundant  material.  The  quarry 
found,  the  architect,  in  the  absence  of  those  powerful  appliances  of 
machinery  with  which  modern  science  has  rendered  us  familiar,  has 
only  the  main  strength  of  slaves  to  move  his  material  ; he  therefore 
endeavors,  as  far  as  possible,  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  transporting 
heavy  blocks.  But  his  traditions,  the  antecedent  arts  of  Egypt  and 
the  East,  with  which  he  is  familiar,  exact  the  employment  of  mate- 
rials of  considerable  dimensions,  the  vertical  support  and  the  lintel 
being  the  only  system  of  construction  used.  His  first  task,  then,  is 
to  adapt  these  requirements  to  the  means  of  execution  at  his  dis- 


CONSTRUCTION  OF  A GREEK  TEMPLE. 


ot 


posai.  This  difficulty,  instead  of  dismaying  him,  stimulates  his 
artistic  genius.  It  is  a difficulty  solved  by  art.  He  considers  with 
reason  that  the  cella  of  his  temple,  as  it  is  only  a wall  with  two  faces, 

one  within  and  one  without,  may  be  built  with  materials  of  small 

dimensions.  To  construct  a wall  of  ordinary  thickness  with  mate- 
rials not  occupying  the  whole  of  this  thickness,  but  with  rectilinear 

blocks  finished  only  on  one  face  and  laid  back  to  back  like  thick 

flagstones,  is  bad  construction,  but,  under  the  circumstances,  good 
logic  ; and,  as  the  Greek  is  an  excellent  logician,  he  has  his  recti- 
linear blocks  fashioned  at  the  quarry  with  only  one  face  finished. 
With  these  he  constructs  his  cella.  But  he  perceives  that  double 
walls  built  thus  with  separate  stones  for  each  face  need  tying  to- 
gether ; to  effect  this  purpose  he  occasionally  lays  bond  - stones 
through  the  whole  thickness  of  the  wall,  and  finished  on  their  two 
ends. 

He  now  requires  columns  as  vertical  points  of  support  in  his  peri- 
style or  porticos  ; he  sees  that,  to  obtain  a condition  of  perfect 
stability,  these  isolated  piers  must  be  composed  of  blocks  as  large  as 
possible.  The  quarries  and  the  means  of  transport  at  hand  rarely 
enable  him  to  erect  monolithic  posts.  So,  on  the  side  of  some  cliff' 
in  his  quarry  where  the  limestone  bed  begins,  he  selects  the  thickest 
layers  of  stone,  on  the  upper  surface  of  which  he  traces  a circle  of 
the  diameter  which  he  thinks  proper  for  each  column  ; thence  down 
the  upright  face  of  these  layers  or  strata  he  cuts  away  enough  stone 
on  each  side  to  enable  the  quarrymen  to  work  at  the  shaft  ; thus  he 
disengages  a short  cylinder  or  drum  from  the  living  rock.  When 
the  lower  bed  of  the  stratum  is  reached,  completely  separating  the 
cylinder,  which  he  has  thus  excavated,  from  the  face  of  the  cliff,  he 
lays  it  on  its  side  and  rolls  it  to  the  base  of  the  slope.  Here  he 
cuts  a square  hole  in  the  centre  of  each  of  its  circular  ends,  and  fits 
into  them  two  pivots  ; then,  by  means  of  a cradle  and  ropes,  he  rolls 
it  to  the  site  of  the  temple.  Thus  the  cylindrical  form  which  he 
adopts  for  his  largest  stones  is  a practical  necessity  to  facilitate 
transportation.  These  are  not  mere  hypotheses,  as,  even  to  this  day, 
the  quarries  near  Selinus,  in  Sicily,  called  cava  di  casa  (building 
quarries),  exhibit  these  successive  operations.  Here  enormous  cyl- 
inders, not  less  than  eleven  feet  five  and  a half  inches  in  diameter, 
and  from  six  to  nine  feet  long,  are  still  engaged  in  the  limestone  bed, 
others  have  rolled  by  their  own  weight  to  the  base  of  the  declivity, 


38 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


and  others  are  actually  en  route  for  the  site  of  the  proposed  temple, 
with  the  square  holes  cut  in  their  ends.  These  blocks  were  left 
in  this  condition  on  the  cruel  destruction  of  that  flourishing  Greek 
colony  by  the  Carthaginian  invasion.  No  ruin  causes  a deeper  emo- 
tion than  these  traces  of  human  labor,  fresh  as  if  left  but  yesterday 
by  the  workmen. 

But  the  columns  of  the  temple  are  not  the  only  blocks  of  large 
bulk  required.  The  lintels,  which  are  to  stretch  between  the  sum- 
mits of  the  columns,  must  necessarily  be  of  considerable  size,  if  the 
temple  is  to  be  large.  The  Greek  architect,  in  procuring  these 
blocks,  proceeds  in  the  same  manner  as  when  building  the  walls  of 
the  cella  ; he  makes  each  lintel  of  two  long  stones  placed  back  to 
back  with  a joint  between,  having  one  finished  face  on  the  outside 
and  one  on  the  inside  of  the  portico.  Experience  soon  discloses  to 
him  that  this  arrangement  has  other  advantages  besides  the  facility 
of  transportation  thus  obtained  ; for  all  calcareous  stones,  includ- 
ing marble,  are  liable  to  flaws  or  natural  lines  of  breakage,  in- 
visible at  the  time  of  quarrying,  but  which,  under  a superimposed 
burden,  at  length  betray  themselves  and  occasion  irremediable  frac- 
tures in  the  lintel.  But  two  lintel  stones  laid  back  to  back  have 
two  chances  to  one  in  favor  of  resistance  against  any  such  casualty, 
for  if  one  of  the  stones  is  defective,  the  other,  its  twin,  maintains  the 
weight  above  and  thus  prevents  any  immediate  fall.  The  Greek 
architect  invariably  employed  this  expedient  when  he  used  limestones, 
like  those  of  Sicily,  whose  power  of  resistance  is  not  very  consider- 
able. 

The  architect  now  proceeds  most  ingeniously  to  elevate  and  set  in 
place  all  the  materials  thus  brought  to  the  site.  As  regards  the 
cylindrical  drums  of  his  columns,  he  avails  himself  of  the  square  hole 
cut  in  one  of  their  circular  ends,  and  dovetailing  it  with  tenons,  ap- 
plies the  slings  or  iron  pincers,  and  thus  elevates  it  perpendicularly 
to  its  place  ou  the  pile  ; for  these  blocks,  being  laid  with  dry  joints, 
without  wedges  or  mortar,  must  reach  their  destined  position,  sus- 
pended, and,  once  laid,  cannot  be  disarranged.  All  the  means  of 
suspension  must  then  be  so  contrived  as  to  leave  free  the  beds  of  the 
joints.  The  capitals  are  easily  raised  in  a vertical  position  by  means 
of  their  projecting  corners.  But  the  long  and  thin  lintel  stones, 
which  are  laid  end  for  end,  and  therefore  have  two  sides  concealed 
in  the  joints,  and  exhibit  one  or  two  vertical  faces  besides  the  under 


CONSTRUCTION  OP  A GREEK  TEMPLE. 


39 


side  or  soffit,  visible  when  looking  up  between  the  columns,  must 
be  attached  and  hoisted  by  the  two  ends  ; the  architect  prepares 
for  the  suspension  of  these  blocks  by  cutting  in  each  of  the  two  ver- 
tical end-faces  of  each  block  a channel  formed  like  a U,  and  deep 
enough  to  admit  a cable  easily,  as  indicated  in  Fig.  11.  When 

Fig.  11. 


the  stone  is  mounted  and  laid  in  place,  the  cable  is  drawn  out  from 
the  grooves.  The  art  of  laying  stones  with  dry  joints  was  practised 
among  the  Greeks  with  rare  perfection.  In  this  case,  the  blocks 
cannot  be  brought  up  to  stages  of  scaffolding  placed  at  different, 
heights  and  finally  laid  in  their  beds  by  means  of  crow-bars  and 
Avedges,  according  to  the  modern  fashion  ; but  must  arrive  exactly 
over  their  several  destinations,  there  to  be  deposited  gently  and  with 
precision.  If  deposited  athwart  their  bed,  the  appliances  for  lifting 
would  not  be  found  strong  enough  to  remove  them  bv  reason  of  the 
close  adherence  of  their  perfectly  smooth  and  closely  fitting  surfaces. 
The  necessary  precision  of  position,  therefore,  can  only  be  obtained 


40 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


by  the  use  of  great  sheers  brought  and  stayed  successively  above 
each  column,  and  then  above  each  intercolunmiation,  to  hoist  the 
lintels,  or  architraves,  the  trigylphs,  metopes,  cornices,  etc.  In  this 
connection,  we  should  not  forget  that  the  Greeks  were  a nation  of 
sailors,  and  therefore  their  constructive  appliances  must  have  been 
made  with  skill,  simplicity,  and  perfection. 

The  means  thus  briefly  explained,  let  us  now  examine  the  work 
itself;  let  us  see  the  Greek  temple  actually  in  course  of  construction. 
The  wall  of  the  cella  built  and  the  column  smoothed,  the  architect 
observes  that  the  horizontal  blocks,  the  lintels  which  extend  from  one 
column  to  another,  may,  on  account  of  their  length,  be  subject  to 
fracture  under  the  superincumbent  weight  ; he  therefore  places  on  the 
summit  of  each  column  projecting  blocks  or  capitals. 

The  abacus,  or  crowning  block,  of  the  Doric  capital  is  square  in 
plan  ; its  two  side  faces,  by  reason  of  their  projection,  increase  the 
surface  of  support  under  the  lintel  or  architrave,  but  its  projecting 
exterior  and  interior  faces  carry  no  weight.  If  the  Doric  capital 
were,  as  is  maintained,  an  imitation  of  a wooden  capital,  these  last 
two  projections  of  the  abacus  jutting  out  beyond  the  outer  and  inner 
faces  of  the  architrave  would  be  unreasonable,  as  I have  already 
demonstrated.  But  in  stone  these  projections  are  perfectly  justifiable  ; 
for,  if  the  columns  are  built  with  successive  courses  of  tambours  or 
drums,  the  architraves  or  lintels,  which  must  be  long  enough  to 
extend  between  the  columns  from  centre  to  centre,  and  deep  enough 
to  bear  a superincumbent  weight,  become  the  largest  blocks  used  in 
the  Doric  order.  Now,  we  have  shown  that  these  blocks  are  raised 
by  their  two  extremities  to  be  covered  in  the  close  joints.  To  de- 
posit such  heavy  stones  exactly  on  their  two  beds,  that  is  to  say,  on 
the  abaci  of  the  capitals,  without  making  the  columns  deviate  from 
the  vertical,  required  delicate,  precise,  and  safe  handling.  The  exte- 
rior and  interior  projections  of  the  abaci  greatly  facilitated  this  opera- 
tion, as  they  enabled  temporary  beams  of  wood  to  be  laid  across 
from  column  to  column  inside  and  outside  of  the  bed  of  the  proposed 
architrave,  thus  not  only  steadying  and  keeping  the  columns  in  line, 
but  giving  foothold  for  the  masons,  while  gently  and  exactly  guiding 
the  architrave  stones  to  their  beds  on  the  summits  of  the  capitals  and 
between  the  beams,  without  the  necessity  of  more  scaffolding.  It 
must  be  observed  here  that  all  primitive  constructors  were  sparing  in 
the  use  of  scaffolding  ; they  did  not  like  (and  the  Greeks  less  than 


CONSTRUCTION  OP  A GREEK  TEMPLE. 


41 


all  others)  to  erect  temporary  and  apparently  useless  works,  that  is  to 
say,  such  as  were  not  to  leave  permanent  traces  in  the  structure  where 
they  were  employed.  Some  Greek  temples,  like  those  at  Segeste, 
are  unfinished,  and  still  remain  as  the  workmen  left  them  ; in  these 
we  see  that  the  materials  composing  the  monument,  far  different 
from  our  own  customs  in  this  respect,  were  raised  to  their  places  by 
the  simplest  mechanism  of  suspension  and  deposit,  and  that  the  con- 
structors sought,  as  far  as  possible,  to  avail  themselves  of  the  struc- 
ture itself  for  a scaffold,  making  use  of  the  various  projections  to  lay 
temporary  longitudinal  and  transverse  beams  where  necessary. 

Above  the  architraves  we  find  only  small  stones  used.  This  was 
evidently  one  of  their  many  concessions  made  to  avoid  needless  ex- 
pense and  difficulties  of  execution.  The  frieze,  laid  upon  the  archi- 
trave, is  but  a succession  of  little  blocks  ( triglyphs ),  between  which 
slabs  {metopes)  are  placed  edgewise,  with  a backing  sometimes  con- 
structed in  several  courses  of  brick.  The  cornice  has  but  slight 
projection,  and  does  not  bear  on  the  whole  thickness  of  the  frieze, 
extending  back  only  far  enough  to  maintain  an  equilibrium.  (See 
Plate  II.) 

The  constructor  remedies  by  his  intelligence  whatever  difficulties 
may  arise  from  his  spare  use  of  material  ; he  observes,  for  instance, 
that  the  drops  of  rain,  according  to  a physical  law,  follow  the  under 
horizontal  surface  of  the  projection  of  his  cornice  ; he  therefore,  in 
order  to  avoid,  as  far  as  possible,  the  defacing  effect  of  the  wash  of 
rain-water,  inclines  this  surface  upward,  so  that  the  water,  when  it 
has  run  down  the  perpendicular  face,  may  fall  on  reaching  the  lower 
edge. 

These  are  improvements  resulting  simply  from  the  application  of 
reason  to  the  work  in  hand.  But  this  is  not  sufficient  : art  now  in- 
tervenes. This  monument  is  built  under  a pure  sky,  through  which 
the  sun  shines  brightly  ten  months  out  of  the  year.  The  artist  ob- 
serves soon  that  the  cylindrical  columns  of  his  temple,  by  an  optical 
illusion,  appear  larger  at  their  summits  than  at  their  bases  ; this 
offends  his  reason  as  well  as  his  eyes  ; so  of  his  cylinders  he  makes 
truncated  cones.  This  diminution  of  the  shafts  ( entasis ) had,  per- 
haps, already  been  required  by  considerations  of  stability.  Again,  lie 
notices  that  the  intermediate  blocks  {abaci)  between  his  shafts  and 
the  architrave  seem  to  crush  the  columns  by  their  weight  ; so,  leav- 
ing these  blocks  square  in  plan  where  it  is  necessary  to  satisfy  the 


4.2 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


requirements  of  solidity  and  strength  (that  is,  under  the  architrave), 
he  cuts  them  beneath  in  such  a manner  as  to  make  the  circular  sec- 
tion of  his  shafts  meet  this  square  with  a salient  curve  (the  echinus). 
But  the  artist  is  not  yet  satisfied.  His  columns  appear  flat  Avhere 
the  light  strikes  them,  and  tame  and  indecisive  where  they  are  in 
shade.  To  obviate  this,  he  cuts  his  shafts  longitudinally  through 
their  whole  height  in  a series  of  flat  faces  ; then  he  hollows  out  these 
faces  so  as  to  form  channels  {fillings)  deep  enough  to  catch  the 
oblique  light  on  their  edges,  but  not  so  deep  as  to  incommode  those 
who  pass  along  the  colonnade.  The  sunlight,  repeating  thus  on  each 
one  of  these  columns  a series  of  vertical  lines  of  light  and  shade,  dif- 
fering in  width  and  intensity,  defines  that  which  would  have  been 
lost  while  the  columns  remained  merely  smooth  diminishing  cylin- 
ders. He  feels  that,  in  order  to  make  the  eye  comprehend  the  full 
value  of  a form,  the  principal  lines  of  that  form  must  be  repeated,  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  sentiment  of  a musician  leads  him  to  define  a 
principal  phrase  by  returning  to  it  often  in  the  course  of  his  melody  ; 
so  the  vertical  line  of  the  column  is  emphasized  by  repetition  on  its 
surface.  But  the  artist  is  conscious  that  he  must  not  fatigue  the  eye 
by  any  exaggerated  persistence  in  this  method  of  defining  ; he  cuts 
upon  his  shafts  only  channels  enough  to  produce  the  desired  effect. 
The  necessity  of  employing  materials  of  large  size  stops,  as  I have 
already  explained,  when  his  columns,  with  their  capitals,  and  his 
architrave  are  in  place  ; upon  his  architrave  he  only  needs  to  lay  small 
squares  of  stone.  At  first,  in  the  axis  of  his  columns,  or  above  each 
joint  of  his  architrave,  which  is  crowned  with  a fillet,  and  over  the 
centre  of  each  intercolumniation,  he  places  isolated  blocks,  that  the 
superincumbent  mass  may  bear  as  little  as  possible  upon  his  archi- 
trave. But  he  is  a Greek  : he  desires  that  his  judicious  combination 
shall  clearly  explain  itself  ; so,  on  the  exterior  face  of  each  one  of 
the  squares  of  stone,  placed  thus  between  the  architrave  and  the  cor- 
nice, forming  as  it  were  little  isolated  pillars,  he  carves  a triglyph, 
that  is,  lie  cuts  upon  this  visible  face  vertical  channels,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  same  feeling,  the  same  just  reasoning,  which  led  him 
to  make  use  of  a similar  expedient  to  illustrate  the  function  of  verti- 
cal support  in  his  columns,  denote  a member  which  bears  weight. 
The  triglyph  is  thus  a vertical  support,  and  he  distinctly  indicates 
this  fact. 

The  Greek  architect  exhibits  all  the  qualities  of  a reasoner  ; he 


CONSTRUCTION  OE  A GREEK  TEMPLE. 


43 


concerns  himself  to  demonstrate  to  all  eyes  that  the  various  parts  of 
his  monument  have  each  a useful  necessary  function  ; he  shrinks 
from  the  accusation  of  having  sacrificed  to  caprice  ; it  is  not  sufficient 
that  his  monument  is  solid,  he  tries  to  make  it  appear  so.  But  if 
he  never  conceals  the  contrivances  which  he  employs,  his  artistic  in- 
stinct urges  him  to  clothe  every  member  with  a form  admirably 
chosen  for  the  place  it  is  to  occupy  ; with  regard  to  the  effect  it  is  to 
produce,  his  good  taste  saves  him  from  that  pedantic  persistency 
which  fatigues  the  public,  and,  by  abuse  or  excess  of  reasoning, 
makes  reason  hateful. 

The  spaces  {metopes)  left  between  the  triglyphs  in  the  frieze  were 
usually  filled  each  with  a square  slab  on  edge,  as  we  have  already 
said,  sculptured  with  bas-reliefs  ; but  it  appears  that  originally  these 
spaces  often  remained  open.  In  the  tragedy  of  “ Iphigenia  in  Tauris,” 
Orestes  and  Pylades  propose  to  enter  the  temple  of  Diana  and  take 
away  the  statue  of  the  goddess.  Pylades  suggests  that  they  effect  an 
entrance  by  passing  through  the  openings  left  between  the  triglyphs. 
“ Behold,”  said  he  to  Orestes,  “ where,  in  the  space  of  the  triglyphs, 
there  is  a void  through  which  the  body  can  pass.”  The  Greek  text, 
does  not  say  between  the  triglyplis  ; but  Pylades  was  not  an  archi- 
tect, and,  in  general  language,  would  say,  in  the  triglyphs  or  in  the 
space  of  the  triglyphs,  just  as  people  now  might  say  in  the  balusters 
when  they  mean  between  the  balusters  of  a balustrade.  This  passage 
from  Euripides  has  for  us  a double  interest  : Pylades  could  not  have 
referred  here  to  the  spaces  left  between  the  triglyphs  above  the  col- 
umns, as  the  two  heroes  would  by  this  means  have  only  introduced 
themselves  into  the  open  portico  to  which  of  course  access  might 
readily  have  been  obtained  as  usual  between  the  columns  ; but  the 
text,  seems  to  refer  to  triglyphs  placed  on  the  wall  of  the  cella,  where, 
indeed,  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  that  feature.  If  we  may  suppose 
that  the  spaces  left,  open  between  these  triglyphs  were  intended  to 
admit  air  and  light  into  the  interior  of  the  temple,  it,  would  be  rea- 
sonable to  infer  that  the  cella  was  completely  covered. 

The  Doric  order,  therefore,  as  indicated  in  Plate  II.,  is  not,  it, 
seems  to  me,  a distant  tradition  of  a construction  in  wood,  as  gener- 
ally supposed,  but  plainly  a construction  in  stone.  The  columns,  by 
their  cylindro-conical  form,  the  capitals,  with  their  square  abaci,  the 
whole  entablature,  with  its  triglyphs,  its  inerusted  metopes,  its  cor- 
nice with  inclined  eaves,  the  way  in  which  all  the  members  are  super- 


44 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


imposed,  indicate  plainly  everywhere  stone,  quarried,  cut,  hoisted, 
apparent  by  reason  of  its  nature  and  function  wherever  placed. 
Wood,  indeed,  has  its  part  to  play  in  the  Greek  temple,  but  a 
part  completely  secondary  and  distinct  from  the  construction  in 
stone. 

In  fact,  every  detail  connected  with  the  Greek  temple  is  a direct 
proof  against  this  popular  theory.  The  Greeks  were  too  sensible 
ever  to  have  laid  upon  an  architrave  or  cross-beam  of  wood  joists 
of  such  size  as  are  indicated  by  the  triglyphs  (according  to  the  sup- 
position that  those  members  represent  the  ends  of  the  joists),  merely 
to  extend  across  a portico  of  from  seven  to  ten  feet  in  width.  More- 
over, the  joists  of  the  wooden  ceiling  of  the  portico,  or,  if  of  stone, 
its  lintels  and  slabs,  were  not  laid  upon  the  architrave,  but  upon  the 
frieze  and  above  the  triglyphs,  as  is  still  indicated  by  the  space  and 
projections  reserved  for  this  purpose  in  all  temples.  This  space  in- 
timates that  the  rafters  so  used  were  only  of  the  size  proper  for  the 
duties  they  had  to  perform,  that  is,  from  six  to  ten  inches  square, 
or,  if  stone  was  used  as  a ceiling  for  the  portico,  that  a rest  was  left 
only  large  enough  to  sustain  the  horizontal  slabs.  But  as  triglyphs 
have  been  regarded  as  representing  the  ends  of  the  ceiling  joists, 
so  the  sloping  eaves  ( soffits ) of  the  cornice  have  been  thought  to  indi- 
cate the  ends  of  the  rafters.  Admitting  that  this  theory  is  probable 
as  regards  the  two  lateral  sides  of  the  temple,  how  can  it  hold  good 
for  the  two  ends  under  the  gables  (pediments),  where  no  ends  of 
rafters  can  project,  but  where  the  cornice  is  continued  in  the  same 
manner?  Greek  artists  were  men  of  too  good  judgment  to  com- 
mit so  gross  a solecism.  If  the  theory  were  correct,  the  sloping 
eaves  would  have  been  omitted  under  the  pediments,  and,  as  we 
have  seen,  when  the  Greeks  really  did  imitate  wooden  construction, 
they  reproduced  everything  frankly  and  minutely;  the  ends  of  the 
purlins,  or  longitudinal  beams  supporting  the  rafters  at  right  angles 
to  them,  would  have  been  represented  here  under  the  projection  of 
the  cornice.  We  have  seen  that  in  the  Lycian  tomb  (Plate  L),  an 
imitation  of  wood  in  stone,  these  conditions  are  strictly  followed 
out  ; the  ends  of  the  purlins  appear  on  the  gable  ends,  but  those 
of  the  rafters  are  properly  confined  to  the  sides. 

The  Greek  temples  really  are  monuments  in  stone,  in  which  the 
principle  of  the  lintel  has  been  intelligently  and  elegantly  developed. 
Why  not  accept  them  for  what  they  are,  instead  of  supposing  that 


CONSTRUCTION  OF  THE  GREEK  TEMPLE. 


43 


the  Greeks,  who  invented  logic,  and  were  endowed  with  the  most 
delicate  sentiment,  would  amuse  themselves  with  such  an  absurdity 
as  imitating  in  stone  a construction  in  wood  ? Such  things  might 
be  done  among  the  Assyrians  and  the  people  of  Asia  Minor,  but 
it  is  quite  to  misunderstand  the  genius  of  the  Western  Greeks  to 
attribute  any  such  follies  to  them. 

It  is  by  such  interpretations  of  the  origins  of  antique  and  medi- 
æval  architectures,  — interpretations  more  ingenious  than  rational, — 
that  a false  direction  has  been  given  to  the  study  of  art,  and  con- 
sequently to  the  spirit  of  artists.  It  is  useful,  we  think,  to  explain 
monuments  by  what  they  are,  and  not  by  what  we  wish  them  to  be. 
The  Greek  temple  is  copied  from  the  wooden  hut,  just  as  the  medi- 
aeval cathedral  is  copied  from  the  forests  of  Gaul  or  Germany.  Both 
theories  are  romances  fit  to  amuse  dreamers,  but  dangerous,  or  at 
least  useless,  when  they  are  taught  to  men  destined  to  become  archi- 
tects. 

But  let  us  return  to  the  construction  of  the  Greek  temple.  The 
Greek  architect  admits  symmetry,  for  it  is  an  instinct  of  the  human 
mind  ; but  he  does  not,  allow  this  instinct  to  triumph  over  his  reason. 
In  building  his  temple,  he  has  begun  by  making  the  cella,  the  pre- 
cinct reserved  for  the  divinity,  an  independent  construction,  a com- 
paratively small  stone  enclosure,  around  which  he  has  planted  the 
columns  of  his  portico  ( peristyle ),  admitting  between  the  enclosure 
and  the  columns  a passage  extensive  when  compared  with  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  cella.  He  does  not  trouble  himself  to  place  the  sec- 
ond columns  of  his  portico,  or  peristyle,  exactly  opposite  the  pilasters 
(antce)  which  form  the  corners  of  the  cella,  for  he  perceives  that  in 
perspective  this  correspondence  would  have  no  value.  His  only  pre- 
occupation is  to  rest  the  wooden  ceiling  of  his  portico  on  the  walls 
of  the  cella  and  the  interior  frieze  of  the  peristyle.  But  with  regard 
to  the  angles  of  his  peristyle,  his  reason  leads  him  to  disembarrass 
himself  still  more  frankly  from  what  we  call  the  laws  of  symmetry. 
He  sees  that  the  isolated  columns  of  the  corners  must  necessarily 
carry  a heavier  weight  than  the  others,  and  he  distrusts  the  strength 
of  the  architrave  stones  which  rest  upon  it  ; lie  foresees  that,  if  one 
of  these  stones  should  break,  the  column  on  the  angle  would  be 
forced  outward  by  the  fall.  For  this  reason,  and  notwithstanding  the 
laws  of  symmetry,  he  deems  it  prudent  to  augment  the  diameter  of 
this  column  and  to  lessen  the  distance  between  that  and  the  next 


46 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


columns  on  either  side.  This  difference  of  intercohunniation  per- 
mits him  to  place  a triglyph  on  the  angle  of  the  frieze  without  sensi- 
bly increasing  the  intervals  between  the  three  last  triglyphs  on  each 
face,  thus  satisfying  another  requirement  of  reason  in  giving  a point 
of  support  to  the  cornice  on  the  corner  where  such  support  is  most 
needed. 

These  difficulties  of  composition  resolved,  the  architect  proceeds 
to  the  study  of  details.  He  has  remarked  that,  when  it  rains,  the 
water,  uniting  with  the  deposit  of  dust  on  the  vertical  face  of  his 
exterior  cornice,  leaves  there,  as  it  runs  down,  unsightly  stains,  ob- 
scuring the  purity  of  that  part  of  the  extreme  projection  of  his  struc- 
ture which  he  desires  to  be  brilliantly  defined  against  the  blue  sky. 
He  therefore  lays  upon  this  cornice-stone  a gutter  of  marble  or  terra- 
cotta, and  at  intervals  along  its  length  he  furnishes  it  with  spouts 
to  project  the  accumulated  water  from  the  face  of  the  cornice  ; but 
the  gutter  itself,  exposed  to  the  rain  on  its  face,  is  easily  soiled,  and 
to  conceal  this  defect,  he  covers  it  with  sculpture  or  painting. 

The  more  closely  the  man  of  artistic  instincts  observes,  the  wider 
the  field  of  observation  opens  before  him.  But  the  observation  of 
the  philosopher  and  that  of  the  artist  differ  in  their  results.  The 
philosopher  observes  to  compare,  to  deduce  consequences,  to  kncnv, 
in  a word.  The  artist  observes,  but  does  not  stop  at  the  results  ; 
from  these  he  proceeds  to  labor  with  or  against  physical  laws,  to 
augment,  modify,  or  destroy  the  effects  produced  by  them.  The 
artist  observes  that  a cylinder  in  strong  light  receives  but  one 
mass  of  light  and  one’  mass  of  shade  ; he  modifies  this  effect  of  a 
physical  law  by  means  of  perpendicular  channels,  to  recall  the  light 
in  the  shade,  and  thus  force  the  light  to  model  his  column.  He 
observes  that  the  large  square  abacus  of  his  capital,  during  the 
greater  part  of  the  day,  produces  a broad  shadow  over  the  top  of 
his  shaft,  and  that  this  shadow,  rendered  very  transparent  by  the 
direct  reflection  of  the  light  from  the  ground  below,  is  so  luminous 
that  the  junction  of  the  capital  with  the  shaft  is  lost  ; he  sees  that 
this  effect  is  feeble  and  indecisive,  and  that  it  detracts  from  that 
apparent  architectural  solidity  which  should  be  carefully  preserved 
at  the  point  where  the  vertical  lines  of  light  and  shade  produced  by 
the  flutings  cease.  He  therefore  at  this  point  of  junction  between 
the  capital  and  shaft  cuts  a series  of  deep  horizontal  lines  ; and, 
still  to  increase  the  vigorous  effect  of  these  lines  of  sharp  shadow, 


LIGHT  AND  SHADOW  IN  GEEEK  DESIGN. 


47 


he  colors  them  with  a sombre  tone,  and  thus  destroys  an  effect  of 
shadow  which  offends  his  artistic  feeling.  lie  has  observed  that 
the  reflected  lights  in  shadows  are  themselves  luminous.  He  has 
remarked  that  the  shadow  under  the  abacus,  whose  faces  sharply 
intercept  the  light,  is  so  positive,  the  transition  thus  made  so  violent, 
that  the  summit  of  the  shaft  is  apparently  lost,  and  the  architrave 
has  the  effect  of  resting,  not  on  a solid  form,  but,  as  it  were,  on  a 
void.  Now,  his  intelligence  as  a constructor  demands  that  the  cap- 
ital must  have  a decided  projection  ; he  therefore  cannot  diminish 
this  projection  in  order  to  lessen  the  objectionable  effect  of  shadow. 
How  is  the  difficulty  to  be  solved  ? He  discovers  that  mould- 
ing, so  profoundly  reasoned  and  so  delicately  rendered,  the  echinus, 
which  encircles  the  summit  of  the  shaft  and  bears  the  abacus.  At 
its  point  of  junction  with  the  abacus  he  gives  this  moulding  a sud- 
den turn  inward  {quirk),  so  that  at  the  point  where  it  becomes  tan- 
gent to  the  face  of  the  abacus  it  catches  a brilliant  spot  of  light, 
which,  repeating  the  light  .on  the  abacus,  is  lost  in  a graduated 
demi-tint  towards  the  neck  of  the  column.  He  thus  blends  the  too 
brilliant  light  of  the  abacus  with  its  too  positive  shadow  ; then,  not 
content  with  this  first  result,  he  inclines  the  curve  of  this  moulding 
downward  towards  the  neck  of  the  shaft,  making  it  nearly  a sec- 
tion of  an  inverted  cone,  so  that  its  surface  may  receive  from  the 
illuminated  ground  below  or  from  the  neighboring  walls  as  much 
reflected  light  as  possible.  Thus,  with  incomparable  skill,  availing 
himself  of  the  natural  effects  of  light,  shadow,  and  reflection,  deli- 
cately studied,  he  satisfies  the  desire  of  his  eye,  and  obtains  that 
expression  of  solidity  which  his  reason  demands  as  essential  to 
that  part  of  his  composition. 

The  Greek  Doric  orders  are  in  the  hands  of  all  those  who  occupy 
themselves  with  architecture,  and  each  one  can  readily  verity  for  him- 
self the  exactness  of  the  observation  of  the  Greek  architect.  For 
him  the  sun  is  evidently  the  generating  principle  of  exterior  forms. 
He  perceives,  for  instance,  that,  at  a certain  distance,  the  columns  of 
his  temple,  though  tinted,  when  they  receive  light  perpendicularly  to 
the  wall  of  the  cella,  are  not  apparently  detached  from  that  wall,  but 
that  their  lights  are  confounded  with  that  which  falls  on  the  cella,  and 
their  shadows,  thrown  upon  its  wall  behind,  appear  completely  to 
disarrange  the  distribution  of  columniations  and  intercolumniations, 
solids  and  voids,  in  his  peristyle.  To  obviate  this  difficulty,  the 


48 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


architect  calls  the  painter  to  his  aid  and  instructs  him  to  lay  upon 
this  wall  behind  the  peristyle  a vigorous  tone,  a brown  or  a red, 
which  shall  absorb  the  light  ; and  lest  this  expedient  may  contradict 
the  constructive  expression  of  the  building,  he  takes  care  to  trace 
upon  the  wall,  from  distance  to  distance,  clear,  line,  horizontal  lines, 
recalling  to  the  eye  the  horizontal  courses  of  stone,  and,  seen  between 
the  columns,  which  are  distinguished  by  vertical  lines,  clearly  sepa- 
rating the  constrdction  of  the  wall  in  the  rear  from  the  supporting 
members  in  front  of  it.  This  application  of  color  to  the  exterior 
of  monuments  is  so  necessary  in  a country  like  Greece,  where  the  air 
has  a marvellous  transparency,  that  to-day,  for  example,  he  who  from 
a certain  distance  looks  at  the  temple  of  Theseus  at  Athens,  now 
deprived  of  its  colors,  when  in  full  sunlight,  finds  it  impossible  to 
distinguish  the  lights  on  the  columns  from  those  on  the  wall  of  the 
cella  behind  them,  these  lights,  though  on  different  planes,  being 
confounded  and  appearing  to  be  projected  on  the  same  surface. 

Thus,  if  we  take  one  by  one  all  the  details  of  a Greek  temple  and 
study  them  separately  and  in  their  direct  relations  with  the  whole, 
we  shall  always  discover  the  influence  of  that  judicious  and  refined 
study  which  is  the  beginning  of  true  art,  of  that  exquisite  sentiment 
which  submits  all  forms  to  reason,  not  to  the  dry  and  pedantic  reason 
of  the  geometer,  but  to  reason  directed  by  sense  and  by  the  observa- 
tion of  natural  laws. 

This  rapid  glance  at  the  modus  operandi  of  Greek  artists  is  suffi- 
cient to  show  that  if  the  Parthenon  is  in  its  place  at  Athens  it  is  but 
ridiculous  when  imitated  at  Edinburgh,  where  the  sun  is  obscured 
by  mists  during  the  greater  part  of  the  year  ; it  proves,  moreover, 
that  if  Heaven  had  endowed  the  inhabitants  of  Edinburgh  with 
feelings  as  refined  and  artistic  susceptibilities  as  acute  as  those  of  the 
Greeks,  they  would  have  adopted  a very  different  method  of  con- 
struction there  from  what  was  prevalent  on  the  shores  of  the  Archi- 
pelago and  the  Mediterranean.  Art  does  not  consist  in  this  or  that 
form,  but  in  a principle,  a logical  method.  We  cannot  maintain  that 
a certain  form  of  art  is  art  absolutely,  and  that  everything  outside  of 
this  form,  like  the  art  of  the  Iroquois  or  of  the  mediaeval  French,  is 
necessarily  barbarous.  The  question  is,  not  whether  the  Iroquois  or 
the  French,  in  their  respective  forms  of  art,  were  like  the  Greek  in 
his  form  of  art,  but  whether,  in  adopting  their  peculiar  forms,  they 
proceeded  in  like  manner  according  to  rational  principles  ; whether 


-M 


I- 


t !*, 


THE  PANTHEON. 


PLAN  ON  TWO  LEVELS. 


GREEK  ART  TO  BE  STUDIED,  NOT  IMITATED. 


40 


they  approached  the  Greek  spirit  in  making  their  architecture  differ 
from  that  of  the  Greeks  in  the  same  proportion  as  their  climate,  their 
requirements,  their  habits,  differed  from  those  of  Greece.  But  it 
must  not  be  inferred  that  the  study  of  Greek  art  is  useless,  because  no 
one  now  can  seriously  recommend  us  to  imitate  it  ; on  the  contrary, 
it  is  indispensable  to  the  architect,  provided  he  does  not  limit  him- 
self to  an  acquaintance  with  forms  merely,  but  deduces  the  principles 
under  which  not  only  Greek  art  but  all  true  expressions  of  art  have 
been  developed.  It  is  barbarous  to  reproduce  a Greek  temple  at 
Paris  or  London  ; for  such  reproduction  betrays  ignorance  of  the 
principles  which  inspired  the  original,  and  such  ignorance  is  barba- 
rism. Yet  it  is  barbarous  not  to  study  Greek  art  with  profound 
attention  and  minute  care,  because  this  art  developed  its  forms  under 
the  immutable  principles  of  truth  more  consistently  than  any  other, 
and  because  it  understood  and  invariably  followed  those  principles. 
It  is  barbarous,  moreover,  not  impartially  to  recognize  consistent  snb- 
jection  to  such  principles,  wherever  it  may  be  found. 

We  have  shown  how  the  Greeks  were  accustomed  to  sacrifice  sym- 
metry when  it  interfered  with  an  intelligent  and  reasonable  disposi- 
tion of  architectural  details.  But  tins  fact  may  be  observed,  not 
only  in  the  details,  but  in  the  general  compositions  of  the  Greek 
architect.  The  Erectheum  of  the  Acropolis  at  Athens  is  a very 
striking  instance  of  this  phenomenon.  This  structure,  as  every  one 
knows,  is  a group  of  three  temples  or  rooms  of  unequal  importance, 
with  three  porticos  on  different  levels  ; two  of  these  porticos  are 
Ionic,  and  one  has  its  entablature  supported  by  caryatides.  Not 
even  in  Gothic  architecture,  which  is  regarded  as  especially  indepen- 
dent of  the  laws  of  symmetry,  can  a single  monument  be  found  more 
apparently  capricious,  or  (to  use  a modern  phrase)  more  picturesque 
than  this.  Its  irregularity  arose  from  several  causes.  It  was  situated 
on  the  northern  extremity  of  the  plateau  of  the  Acropolis,  and  at  a 
point  where  the  rock  began  to  shelve  off  towards  the  north  before 
descending  abruptly  in  a precipice.  It  was  a sacred  spot  ; the  monu- 
ment was  destined  to  cover  the  fountain  which  Neptune  caused  to 
burst  forth  from  the  earth  with  a stroke  of  his  trident,  and  the  olive- 
tree  wrhich  Minerva  produced.  The  ground  therefore  could  not  be 
disturbed.  Though  the  architect  of  the  Erectheum  was  thus  obliged 
to  respect  the  natural  levels  of  the  rock,  he  gladly  availed  himself  of 
the  irregularity  of  the  site  as  presenting  a new  and  original  problem, 
4 


50 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


to  erect  a monument  of  an  agreeable  aspect  in  disregard  of  the  vulgar 
rules  of  symmetry.  It  would  seem  even  that  he  welcomed  difficulties, 
not  to  conceal  the  irregularities  of  his  plan  and  elevations,  but  to  tri- 
umph over  them  with  a bold  stroke  of  genius,  to  express  these  irregu- 
larities by  a great  variety  in  his  design.  This  little  Greek  monument 
is  justly  regarded  as  a masterpiece.  But  where  is  the  architect  of 
the  present  day  who  would  dare  so  completely  to  free  himself  from 
the  laws  of  symmetry,  and,  in  doing  so,  could  develop  such  exquisite 
grace  of  detail  and  beauty  of  execution?  At  Athens  this  audacity 
might  be  permitted,  because  the  artist  knew  that  he  Avas  in  the  midst 
of  a people  artistic  enough  to  comprehend  the  motives  of  such  bold- 
ness ; and  if  the  Athenians  “ spent  their  time  in  nothing  else,  but 
either  to  tell  or  to  hear  some  new  firing,”  the  architect,  Avho  had  in- 
telligently followed  the  inspirations  of  his  taste,  Avas  not  wanting 
either  in  the  ability  or  the  opportunity  to  defend  his  work  trium- 
phantly. 

Let  us  therefore  suppose  the  Erectheum  finished  and  the  rubbish 
of  the  workmen  removed  ; from  the  croAvd  of  curious  spectators, 
argumentative,  impressionable,  apt  at  epigrams  and  sarcasm,  like  all 
Athenians,  a critic  steps  forth  and  says  to  the  architect:  “What 
caprice  is  this  ? Why  these  three  monuments  tmddled  together  as  if 
by  chance?  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  smaller  portico  Avhose  entab- 
lature cuts  into  the  antœ  of  the  cella  ? Here  are  three  façades,  one 
in  front  of  the  cella,  another  on  a loAver  level  projecting  from  the 
flank,  and  forming  a re-entering  angle,  an  L,  against  the  other  ex- 
tremity of  the  main  building,  as  if  this  second  portico  Avas  too  large 
for  the  place  it  occupies  ; and  here  is  still  a third,  small  and  Ioav,  its 
cornice  supported  by  caryatides,  and  built,  not  in  the  axis  of  the  cella, 
but  on  an  angle  Avitli  it.  What  confusion  ! IIoav  can  any  one  view- 
ing this  building  under  one  of  its  aspects  form  any  idea  of  the 
others?  Here,  besides,  on  one  side,  Ave  have  a great  door  giving 
access  into  a little  room,  on  the  other  a small  door  on  a higher  level 
opening  into  this  same  room.  Are  the  treasures  of  the  republic  to 
be  squandered  in  Avorks  like  this,  justified  neither  by  good  taste  nor 
by  reason  ? ” 

To  this  discourse  the  Athenian  architect  may  be  supposed  to  reply: 
“ He  Avho  talks  so  thoughtlessly,  0 Athenians,  is  probably  a stranger, 
since  it  is  necessary  to  explain  to  him  the  principles  of  an  art  in  the 
practice  of  Avhich  you  surpass  all  other  nations  ! He  has  certainly 


APOLOGY  FOR  THE  ERECTHEUM. 


51 


not  taken  the  trouble  to  walk  a few  steps  about  this  Acropolis  or 
in  the  city  and  to  look  about  him,  before  coming  here  to  pass  judg- 
ment on  an  edifice  of  whose  sacred  destination  and  locality  he  must 
be  ignorant.  But  for  his  sake,  if  not  for  yours,  I will  give  the  rea- 
sons which  have  guided  me  in  this  work,  so  that  he  may  know  that 
an  Athenian  architect,  jealous  of  his  own  reputation  and  still  more  so 
of  the  glory  of  his  native  city,  does  nothing  until  he  has  maturely 
reflected  on  the  requirements  and  various  aspects  of  the  monuments 
whose  construction  is  intrusted  to  his  hands.  You  are  aware  that 
I have  been  called  upon  to  build  three  temples,  or  rather  two  temples 
united,  one  consecrated  to  Neptune  Erectheus,  the  other  to  Minerva, 
and  a small  temple  or  shrine  dedicated  to  Pandrosus.  This  is  not 
the  place  to  speak  of  sacred  things,  but  you  know  whether  I would 
have  been  justified  in  meddling  with  the  sacred  soil  I was  required 
to  protect  ; now,  although  the  fountain  of  Neptune  is  situated  on  a 
higher  level  than  the  olive  of  Minerva,  you  behold  here  both  sanctu- 
aries under  the  same  roof.  Observe,  moreover,  0 Athenians,  in  what 
part  of  the  Acropolis  we  stand  ; see  how  we  almost  touch  its  northern 
ramparts,  and  how  at  this  point  the  ground  falls  away  ! Only  fifty 
feet  to  the  southward  rises  the  great  temple  of  Minerva.  Facing  the 
east  I have  constructed,  in  front  of  the  cella  consecrated  to  Neptune 
and  on  a level  with  it,  a portico,  both  forming  a harmonious  whole. 
But  on  the  north  side  why  should  I have  given  to  the  portico  of  the 
sanctuary  of  Minerva  the  importance  belonging  to  that  of  Neptune? 
The  problem  was  to  construct  ou  this  favorable  exposure  an  ample 
shelter  from  the  oppressive  heat  of  the  sun,  but  so  to  dispose  it  as  not 
to  interfere  with  the  space  necessary  for  the  defenders  of  the  ramparts. 
I have  therefore  assumed  as  the  axis  of  this  portico  the  door  of 
entrance  to  the  sanctuary  of  Minerva;  and  in  order  to  protect  this 
portico  from  the  south-wind  and  to  shelter  it,  I have,  as  you  see,  pro- 
longed the  wall  of  the  cella.  I am  reproached  for  having  lowered 
this  northern  portico  so  that  its  cornice  is  not  on  a level  with  that  of 
the  two  sanctuaries  ; but  do  you  not  see  that  thus  I have  subordinated 
everything  to  the  principal  monument,  the  sacred  place  ? that  if,  in 
my  desire,  for  reasons  already  specified,  to  give  great  width  and 
depth  to  this  portico,  T had  elevated  its  entablature  to  a level  with 
that  of  the  cella,  this  mere  accessory  structure  would  have  had  on 
undue  predominance  over  the  main  edifice,  and,  for  those  of  you  who 
live  below  in  that  part  of  the  city  towards  the  temple  of  Theseus,  it 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


would  have  quite  concealed  these  sanctuaries  from  your  view  by  the 
effect  of  perspective  ? Do  you  not  see  that  I have  succeeded  in  pre- 
serving a ilue  proportion  for  this  structure,  and  at  the  same  time,  by 
keeping  the  ridge  of  its  roof  below  the  cornice  of  the  cella,  I have 
obtained  an  effectual  water-shed  ? Now,  passing  to  the  south  side, 
where  the  level  of  the  rock  is  higher,  should  I be  justified  in  making 
the  Pandroseum  here  rival  in  importance  the  porticos  of  Neptune  and 
Minerva?  Ought  I not  rather  to  indicate  to  strangers  that  this  edi- 
fice, uniting  in  itself  three  temples,  has  two  main  entrances,  and  to 
give  to  this  third  and  subordinate  portico  a less  monumental  appear- 
ance? And,  further,  look  at  the  immense  columns  of  the  great  tem- 
ple of  Minerva  in  full  view  yonder,  opposite  to  us  ; what  order  would 
not  have  appeared  mean  in  the  presence  of  the  majestic  peristyle  of 
the  Parthenon  ? In  placing  the  cornice  of  this  little  portico  on 
caryatides,  1 have  escaped  all  comparisons,  and  saved  you,  Athenians, 
from  the  possible  reproach  of  having  repeated  in  little  that  which 
has  been  done  on  a grand  scale  by  our  predecessors.  Again,  had  I 
adopted  for  this  portico  the  Ionic  order,  what  delicacy  of  execution 
and  refinement  of  detail  could  have  rivalled  the  stately  grandeur  of 
the  order  of  the  Parthenon  ? It  is  a principle  of  our  art  which  you 
understand  as  well  as  I,  that  an  appearance  of  meanness  or  parsi- 
mony, especially  in  sacred  things,  should  be  carefully  avoided.  It 
would  not  be  well  for  the  stranger,  arriving  at  Athens  and  beholding 
from  afar,  on  the  heights  of  the  Acropolis,  two  temples  near  each 
other,  one  enormous  and  imposing,  the  other  small  but  of  a character 
of  design  so  near  like  its  neighbor  as  to  challenge  comparison,  — it 
would  not  be  well  for  him  to  be  thus  justified  in  exclaiming,  What 
great  god  is  this  who  has  a temple  here,  and  what  little  god  has  his 
temple  by  its  side  ? Thus,  you  perceive,  Athenians,  that  in  endeavoring 
to  construct  here  sanctuaries  worthy  of  these  divinities,  I have,  by  ex- 
ceptional and  perhaps  strange  dispositions,  avoided  such  reproaches 
regarding  the  respect  we  owe  to  the  gods.  Perhaps  if  I had  sacrificed 
less  to  the  general  aspect  of  the  Acropolis,  and  built  a temple  di- 
vided in  the  interior  but  recalling  in  the  exterior  certain  well-known 
consecrated  forms,  like  that  of  the  temple  of  Theseus,  I should  have 
obtained  the  praises  of  him  who  now  criticises  my  work  ; but,  I ask, 
even  if  in  such  case  I had  endeavored  to  avoid  the  reproaches  I have 
referred  to  by  adorning  my  diminutive  copy  of  the  Parthenon  or 
Theseion  with  an  order  richer  and  more  elegant  than  either,  would  I 


SUBORDINATION  OF  SCULPTURE  IN  GREEK  ARCHITECTURE.  53 


have  succeeded,  would  I have  obtained  a result  as  satisfactory  as  by 
applying  such  an  order  to  an  irregular  monument  like  this,  thus 
foiling  its  want  of  formal  proportions  by  the  abundance  and  delicacy 
of  its  sculptures  ? See  how  the  sunlight  plays  among  these  pro- 
jections, how  the  very  lowness  of  the  portico  of  the  caryatides 
renders  it  a certain  slid  ter  from  the  heat  all  day  long  ! Do  you 
dream  of  making  a comparison  between  this  portico  and  that  of  the 
Parthenon,  when  observing  how  the  supporting  figures  of  the  one 
seem  at  a short  distance  diminished  to  the  natural  size,  and,  turn- 
ing towards  the  other,  your  admiring  eyes  are  tilled  with  its  stately 
shadows  ? ” 

Thus  perhaps  the  architect  of  the  Erectheum  would  have  spoken, 
and  assuredly  the  Athenians  would  have  felt  that  he  spoke  with 
wisdom. 

One  of  the  essential  qualities  of  Greek  art  is  clearness  ; that  is  to 
say,  referring  only  to  architecture,  the  pure,  transparent  expression 
of  purpose,  and  of  the  requirements  and  means  of  execution.  This 
quality  of  clearness  or  distinctness,  the  inseparable  companion  of 
taste,  is  evident,  not  only  throughout  the  general  structure  of  Greek 
buildings,  always  simple,  intelligible,  without  equivocations  or  con- 
cealments, but  in  the  details,  in  the  sculpture  and  the  monumental 
use  of  color  which  so  harmonize  with  the  architecture  as  to  illustrate 
and  not  dissemble  its  forms.  Sculpture,  in  a Greek  edifice,  never 
alters  an  architectural  profile  or  outline;  it  is  never  attached  but  as 
a light  embroidery,  whose  slight  projections  cannot  destroy  the  sweep 
of  the  lines  ; sometimes,  to  obtain  this  result,  the  decoration  is 
simply  a system  of  engraving  assisted  by  color.  In  that  climate,  the 
transparency  of  the  air  and  the  brilliancy  of  the  sunlight  betray  the 
most  delicate  details  at  a great  distance  ; the  more  directly  monu- 
mental surfaces  are  exposed  to  this  brilliant  light,  the  less  relief 
is  given  to  their  sculpture.  But  if  the  reliefs  in  the  metopes 
and  the  statues  in  the  tympana  of  the  pediments  have  bold  projec- 
tions, it  is  because  they  are  covered  by  the  broad  shadows  of  the 
cornices  above  and  thus  are  modelled  to  the  eye  mostly  by  reflected 
lights.  If  the  sun  is  low,  these  reliefs,  receiving  light  almost  hori- 
zontally, project  but  slight  shadows,  and  thus,  in  either  case,  the 
architectural  lines  remain  undisturbed.  In  all  the  Greek  structures, 
edited  and  drawn  so  frequently  and  thoroughly,  we  find  that  deco- 
rative sculpture  occupies  but  a very  subordinate  position  in  relation 


54 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


to  their  profiles.  The  Greeks  loved  form  above  all  things.  Every- 
thing which  tended  to  alter  the  harmony  and  unity  of  a composition 
they  rejected.  In  their  statues  they  instinctively  preferred  the  nude. 
They  only  clothed  their  statues  out  of  respect  for  religious  proprie- 
ties, and  these  proprieties  they  disregarded  as  soon  as  they  could  : 
thus  the  earliest  statues  of  Venus  were  necessarily  clothed  ; but 
already  in  the  time  of  Pericles  their  instinct  had  triumphed  over 
their  religious  dogmas. 

The  Greeks  were  an  isolated  people,  a colony  of  artists  ; as  I have 
already  said,  there  were  no  barbarians  among  them.  So  long  as 
they  were  free  from  foreign  influence,  they  were  able  to  preserve  the 
language  of  the  arts  pure  from  all  alloy,  unembarrassed  by  any  con- 
cession ; in  uttering  this  language  they  were  sure  of  appreciation  and 
sympathy.  We,  on  the  other  hand,  to  be  understood,  must  yield  to 
concessions  without  end.  As  regards  art,  there  is  with  us  no  com- 
petent authority,  because  there  are  no  convictions.  We  have  schools, 
indeed,  or  rather  coteries,  disputing  continually  about  principles 
which  they  do  not  practise,  because  no  one  is  willing  to  admit  them 
strictly.  Some  contend  that  the  study  of  the  arts  of  antiquity,  clas- 
sic art,  should  alone  be  honored  by  us  ; but  if  they  build,  they  set 
the  principles  of  these  arts  aside  : others,  less  exclusive,  perhaps,  but 
also  less  reasonable,  demand  that  the  arts  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  of 
the  Renaissance  shall  be  taught  ; but  if  they  build,  while  they  are 
lavish  of  the  elementary  rules  of  such  arts,  they  content  themselves 
with  reproducing  an  appearance,  a similitude,  up  to  a certain  point 
where  popular  prejudice,  fashion , exacts  something  else.  In  the 
midst  of  this  strange  confusion  and  these  continual  disputes,  if  we 
wish  our  studies  to  lead  to  a practical  and  profitable  result,  they 
should  be  pursued  with  discernment.  This  is  peculiarly  an  age  of 
inquiry,  but  the  most  philosophical  researches,  the  most  assiduous 
labors,  will  conduct  us  to  the  most  bitter  deceptions  and  most  fruit- 
less results,  if  we  do  not  bring  to  these  researches  and  labors  a 
spirit  of  intelligent  criticism,  if  we  cannot  shake  oft'  these  poor  bor- 
rowed rags  which  for  the  two  past  centuries  we  have  regarded  as  the 
only  proper  garments.  The  study  of  Greek  antiquity  is,  and  ever 
will  be,  for  youth,  the  surest  initiation  to  the  arts,  the  most  substan- 
tial base  for  the  cultivation  of  taste  and  consequently  of  common- 
sense,  for  these  two  cannot  be  separated.  It  teaches  us  to  distin- 
guish reason  from  sophistry  ; it  enlarges  the  mind  without  confusing 


GREEK  AND  ROMAN  ART  CONTRASTED. 


oo 


it.  However  poetic  the  imagination  of  the  Greeks  may  have  been, 
it  never  led  them  astray  from  the  limits  of  truth  ; they  aimed  above 
all  things  to  be  clear,  intelligible,  human  ; for  they  lived  in  the  midst 
of  men,  and  were  men.  As  for  us,  though  we  admire  these  different 
expressions  of  Greek  art,  Ave  must  not  reproduce  them,  for  our  life  is 
very  different  ; but  what  Ave  can  and  should  appropriate  to  ourselves 
are  their  eternal  principles  of  truth  ; in  a word,  Ave  should  reason 
like  them,  but  should  not  endeavor  to  speak  the  same  language. 

If  the  study  of  Greek  art  is  necessary  to  architects,  the  study  of 
Roman  art,  though  differing  essentially  in  principle,  is  not  less  so. 

The  spirit  of  the  Romans  Avas  not  that  of  the  Greeks.  The  Roman 
Avas  peculiarly  a politician,  an  administrator  ; he  founded  modern 
civilization  ; but  he  certainly  Avas  not  an  artist  like  the  Greek.  lie 
Avas  not  endowed  with  that  instinct  which  so  organizes  all  conceptions 
as  to  make  them  capable  of  being  expressed  in  artistic  forms.  If  avc 
subject  all  Greek  edifices  to  the  same  analysis  that  has  been  briefly 
applied  to  a single  Greek  temple,  Ave  shall  ahvays  encounter  the 
same  delicate  and  appreciative  spirit,  capable  of  availing  itself  of 
every  difficulty  and  every  obstacle  for  the  profit  of  art,  even  to  the 
least  detail.  But  the  analysis  of  a Roman  monument  reveals  to  us 
other  instincts  and  preoccupations.  The  Roman  had  regard  only  for 
generalities,  the  fulfilment  of  a need,  the  satisfaction  of  a desire,  lie 
Avas  not  an  artist;  he  governed,  administered,  constructed.  Form, 
to  him,  Avas  a garment  Avitli  Avliich  to  cover  his  constructions  ; lie  did 
not  concern  himself  to  knoAv  Avhether  a certain  form  Avas  in  perfect 
harmony  with  the  body  it  enclosed,  and  Avhether  all  its  parts  Avere 
deductions  from  a principle.  He  did  not  trouble  himself  with  such 
subtilties.  If  the  architectural  garment  Avas  ample  and  solid,  if  it 
Avas  worthy  of  the  object  which  it  covered,  if  it  did  honor  to  him 
Avho  decreed  the  erection  of  the  structure,  he  Avas  content,  Avithout 
seeking  to  fulfil  in  it  all  tlie  conditions  of  art,  as  the  Greeks  did. 

It  is  useful  to  trace  exactly  the  line  of  demarcation  between  Greek 
and  Roman  art.  To  understand  the  qualities  peculiar  to  these  tAvo 
civilizations  is  the  best  method  of  explaining  the  development  of 
modern  art  and  of  appreciating  the  value  of  what  Ave  have  already 
learned  and  Avhat  Ave  have  yet  to  learn  from  either  ; for  if,  in  lan- 
guage, political  customs,  and  material  habits,  Ave  are  Latins,  Ave  arc 
Greeks  in  the  character  of  onr  mind  and  genius. 

The  aboriginal  or  indigenous  populations  of  Greece  availed  them- 


50 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


selves  of  anterior  arts  ; but  they  knew  bow  to  appropriate  without 
copying,  how  to  deduce  principles  by  submitting  these  arts  to  a 
fastidious  taste  founded  upon  human  reason.  They  invented  neither 
general  forms  nor  any  system  of  construction  ; but  they  did  what 
neither  the  Orientals  nor  the  Egyptians,  their  predecessors,  had 
done,  they  applied  logic  to  the  art  of  architecture.  In  this  they 
became  the  fathers  of  the  West,  and  opened  the  way  to  progress. 
Though  under  all  circumstances  they  continued  to  love  and  cherish 
elegance  of  form,  they  preserved  the  purity  of  their  principles  in 
art  only  so  long  as  their  genius  remained  unoppressed  by  the  Roman 
voice,  which  indeed  deprived  them  of  their  essential  characteristics  as 
Greeks.  The  Roman  civilization  under  the  Empire  was  like  a great 
sea,  engulfing  the  barbarisms  as  well  as  the  original  genius  of  the 
nations.  Subjected  to  the  Romans,  the  Greeks  were  only  skilful 
practitioners  ; and  this  establishes  the  fact,  that,  for  them  as  well  as 
for  all  other  gifted  nations,  self-government  is  the  only  condition  for 
the  healthy  development  of  art.  The  Roman,  by  the  necessity  of 
his  political  and  administrative  organization,  assimilated  and  made 
Roman  everything  he  touched. 

Yet,  such  was  the  native  and  inherent  power  of  Greek  art,  that  we 
find  its  traces  through  all  the  Roman  domination  even  to  the  end  of 
the  Lower  Empire  ; ay,  and  after  that,  for  we  can  still  detect  its 
infiuence  during  the  Middle  Ages.  We  shall  have  occasion  pres- 
ently to  study  the  character  of  these  later  developments,  and  we  shall 
discover  that  this  study  embraces  a most  interesting  period  in  the 
history  of  architecture  and  its  derivative  arts. 

We  h ave  maintained  that  the  arts  of  a nation  develop  indepen- 
dently of  its  political  or  social  condition.  Now,  the  architecture  of 
the  Greeks  is  precisely  the  expression  of  the  intellectual  state  of  the 
people  ; their  genius  was  essentially  artistic.  They  were  not  a 
nation,  in  our  sense  of  the  word,  but  an  agglomeration  of  societies, 
whose  condition  was  such  as  to  foster  the  artistic  sentiment.  If  they 
were  the  first  to  develop  patriotic  ideas  (ideas  foreign  to  Oriental 
nations  even  in  our  day),  their  patriotism  was  rather  municipal  than 
national,  — a local  sentiment,  cherished  by  the  alliance  of  individual 
interests  within  the  limits  of  cities.  So  constituted,  they  Avere  able  to 
resist  the  armed  hordes  of  Persian  slaves,  but  they  were  promptly 
absorbed  by  the  profoundly  political  organization  of  the  Romans. 

This  distinction  between  nationalities  and  societies  must  be  under- 


THE  PATRIOTISM  OF  THE  GREEK  REPUBLICS. 


0 1 


stood,  if  we  would  know  how  the  arts  were  successfully  developed 
among  the  Greeks,  and  how  a similar  development  is  to  he  reached 
under  our  own  different  civilization.  Meanwhile  it  is  worthy  of 
observation  that  the  political  condition  of  the  mediaeval  republics  of 
Italy  was  analogous  to  that  of  the  ancient  republics  of  Greece,  and 
that  accordingly  Venice,  Florence,  Pisa,  and  Sienna,  like  Athens  and 
Corinth,  developed  the  most  brilliant  art. 

The  patriotism  of  the  Athenian  was  not  that  of  the  Roman  citizen 
or  of  the  modern  Parisian.  In  a town  like  Athens,  all  the  citizens 
participated  in  public  affairs  and  took  a direct  interest  in  them,  as 
members  of  the  same  society.  They  were  mutually  acquainted,  and 
interests  were  not  diffused  as  they  have  become  in  our  modern  popu- 
lations. Their  patriotism  was  rather  a sense  of  joint  responsibility 
among  members  of  an  association,  than  the  old  Roman  or  modern 
European  sentiment,  which  consists  in  preserving  a political  unity 
among  provinces  occupying  a vast  territory,  often  to  the  detriment 
of  local  and  particular  interests.  Now,  when  men  are  ruled  by  this 
spirit  of  association,  this  guild-feeling , in  which  each  one  has,  or 
thinks  he  has,  a responsible  part  in  political  affairs,  everything  which 
they  undertake  is  brought  to  an  emphatic  result  : first,  because  such 
a union  encourages  a spirit  of  criticism  ; second,  because  each  mem- 
ber, considering  himself  an  integral  part  of  society,  must  needs  be 
exacting  and  fastidious  ; third,  because  such  individualities,  becom- 
ing powerful  by  patronage,  are  emulative,  ambitious,  and  jealous,  — 
an  unfortunate  circumstance,  perhaps,  for  the  public  good,  but  very 
favorable  to  the  development  of  the  arts  and  all  other  works  of 
genius,  and,  therefore,  to  intellectual  progress  ; fourth,  because  public 
opinion  or  suffrage  is  the  only  appeal,  and  to  gain  such  appeal 
requires  incessant  efforts  to  attract  favor.  The  Athenian  democracy, 
besides,  had  the  advantage  of  leisure  ; all  their  business  was  trans- 
acted through  slaves.  They  passed  their  days  in  the  public  places, 
under  the  porticos  or  in  the  gymnasium,  conversing,  philosophizing, 
interchanging  ideas  on  innumerable  elevated  subjects.  And  we  must 
not  forget  that  the  population  of  Athens  and  its  environs  numbered 
not  more  than  thirty  or  thirty-five  thousand  freemen,  of  whom  about 
twenty  thousand  concerned  themselves  in  public  affairs,  and  that  the 
rest  were  sailors  or  soldiers,  often  abroad  and  often  bringing  back 
news  and  ideas.  All  the  other  intelligent  cities  of  Greece  were 
governed  in  the  same  manner,  Sparta  being  the  only  aristocracy,  and 


58 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


this,  unlike  that  of  Rome,  being  exclusive  and  inhospitable  ; the 
gratification  of  pride  was  the  only  benefit  the  Spartan  nobleman 
obtained  from  his  social  position  ; he  was  obliged  to  be  poorer,  worse 
clothed,  and  worse  fed  than  his  subjects  ; mutual  contention  or  war- 
fare was  his  only  occupation,  and  it  was  only  very  late  that  a Spartan 
of  high  birth  could  become  a politician.  The  aristocracy  of  Sparta 
did  not  concern  itself  with  art  ; but  w.e  shall  soon  see  how  the  aris- 
tocracy of  Rome,  otherwise  constituted,  could  exercise  an  influence 
over  the  arts  and  know  nothing  about  them  at  the  same  time. 
Now,  why  did  the  dangerous  and  unstable  democracy  of  Athens 
afford  just  those  conditions  under  which  art  could  develop  with  the 
greatest  energy  ? 

Because  the  artist  had  to  gratify,  not  a school,  not  a chief,  not  a 
sympathizing  council,  but  the  people  ; and,  among  the  Greeks,  the 
people  were  fastidious,  critical,  disputatious.  If  such  a task  is  diffi- 
cult, the  recompense  is  precious  when  obtained  ; for  success,  won 
from  such  a public  opinion,  is  the  only  reward  which  can  really  flat- 
ter the  artist.  When  an  entire  population  is  to  be  the  judge  of  a 
work  of  art,  and  when  the  instincts  and  education  of  such  a popula- 
tion are  such  that  their  judgments  are  good,  the  artist  is  truly  inde- 
pendent ; for  when  the  appeal  is  to  such  a suffrage,  who  would  dare 
to  confine  the  expression  of  his  thought  within  the  mere  conventional 
limit  set  by  academies  and  schools?  But  when,  as  among  the  Ro- 
mans, the  arts  become  part  of  the  machinery  of  government,  when 
they  are  administered,  magnificence  and  grandeur  may  result  ; we 
may  have  a perfect  expression  of  material  wants,  but  the  penetrating 
savor  of  individuality,  the  elegance  effected  by  study,  the  originality 
which  not  only  attracts  but  charms  the  senses,  not  only  excites  but 
gratifies  the  imagination,  is  lost  forever. 

Such  is  the  infirmity  of  human  nature,  that  art,  even  when  devel- 
oping individually  and  independently,  free  from  academic  pedantry 
and  exclusiveness,  is  apt  to  fall  from  originality  into  mere  correctness 
or  eclecticism  ; common-sense  becomes  subtilty,  and  reason,  sophistry, 
unless  the  artist  is  kept  in  the  true  path  by  the  exactions  of  an  edu- 
cated public,  like  that  of  Athens  or  of  Florence  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
impatient  of  such  errors.  In  a merely  political  point  of  view  the 
history  of  the  Greek  societies  is  but  a record  of  wars  and  rumors  of 
wars  ; they  were  not  even  bound  together  by  the  ties  of  a common 
religion.  Yet,  in  the  midst  of  this  anarchy,  the  arts  alone  advanced, 


ART  THE  LEADING  PRINCIPLE  OF  THE  GREEK ‘SPIRIT.  59 


were  respected,  and  ruled.  From  the  earliest  heroic  times  art  was  the 
only  bond  of  union  among  them.  Thus  Theseus,  king  of  Athens, 
instituted  the  Panathenaic  games  at  Athens,  in  order  to  procure  from 
the  people  of  Attica,  by  a sort  of  religious  confederation,  the  recog- 
nition of  that  city  as  their  metropolis.  In  the  same  manner  all  their 
institutions  were  obliged  to  assume  a form  of  art  to  be  received  by 
the  multitude.  The  whole  Greek  mythology  is  but  a poetic  envelope 
given  to  the  phenomena,  the  forces  and  revolutions  of  nature.  Put 
the  Greeks  were  not  the  inventors  of  mythology  ; I repeat,  the 
Greeks  did  not  invent,  they  but  gave  a form  especially  beautiful 
and  choice  to  the  physical  and  moral  principles  developed  around 
and  within  them.  Their  religion  and  their  arts  proceeded  alike 
from  synthesis.  The  Athenians  especially,  who  were  the  most  re- 
ligious, were  also  most  inclined  to  make  art  rule  over  all  things,  or 
rather  to  convert  everything  into  a work  of  art.  Among  them,  an 
event,  a fact,  a phenomenon,  good,  evil,  all  that  exists  in  the  mate- 
rial or  immaterial  world,  was  translated  into  this  language,  with  a 
delicacy  of  observation,  a logical  truthfulness,  a simplicity  and  en- 
ergy of  expression,  which  seems  almost  superhuman.  But  faculties 
so  precious  could  only  be  developed  in  the  midst  of  a perfectly 
homogeneous  society,  all  of  whose  members,  moved  by  the  same  in- 
telligence, understood  each  other,  and  were  ecpially  sensitive  to  the 
different  expressions  of  art. 

If  we  open  Pausanias,  we  discover  how,  even  up  to  his  time,  the 
productions  of  art  were  venerated  among  the  Greeks.  He  often 
speaks  of  cities,  in  great  part  abandoned,  but  whose  populations 
cherished  a tender  regard  for  their  extinct  splendors  ; of  ruined  tem- 
ples preserving  still  their  statues  of  the  divinities,  though  often  made 
of  materials  which  were  fragile  or  of  such  a nature  as  to  tempt  cu- 
pidity. At  every  step  we  meet  a reminiscence  consecrated  by  a 
monument.  But,  referring  only  to  architecture,  that  which  architects 
ought  especially  to  observe  in  the  Greek  cities  is  their  general  plans, 
indicating  how  thoroughly  their  builders,  even  from  the  beginning, 
were  inspired  by  artistic  ideas.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that 
such  ideas  were  the  first  desires  to  be  satisfied  by  the  founders  of 
cities;  the  choice  of  site,  the  aspect  and  relative  dimensions  of  their 
principal  buildings,  the  picturesque  manner  in  which  they  were  to 
be  grouped,  the  feeling  for  beauty  of  lines,  the  general  effect, — all 
these  things  were  evidently  foreseen  and  provided  for. 


GO 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


When  we  reflect  how  little  in  our  days  considerations  of  this  kind 
are  appreciated,  how  slightly  they  influence  the  decisions  of  our  mod- 
ern building  committees,  we  measure  with  sadness  the  immense  abyss 
which  separates  us  from  those  ages  when  the  arts  were  really  beloved. 
We  are  a civilized  people  ; yet  what  are  most  of  our  towns,  and  what 
will  they  be  in  a few  centuries,  when  very  probably  our  gross  and 
practical  manner  of  satisfying  material  needs  have  forever  masked  or 
swept  from  existence  the  few  rare  remains  of  ancient  art  ? What  are 
the  cities  of  the  New  World,  what  the  industrial  towns  of  England? 
That  which  we  call  civilization  prompts  us,  in  the  nineteenth  century, 
to  make  wide  and  straight  streets,  bordered  by  uniform  blocks  of 
houses.  Thus  our  cities  have  become  deserts  for  thought,  and  have 
all  the  fatiguing  monotony  of  solitude  without  its  grandeur.  Through 
all  these  immense  checkers  of  streets  and  squares,  what  souvenir  is 
there  to  move  you,  where  is  the  repose  for  the  weary  spirit,  where 
is  the  eye  to  rest  with  gratitude  or  affection?  Who  shall  say  that 
a hundred  generations  have  trodden  these  paths  before  ns  ? I do 
not  regret  indeed  the  narrow  and  infected  streets  of  our  old  towns, 
where  houses  thrown  together  by  chance,  crowded  lanes,  and  vener- 
able monuments,  disfigured  by  shops  and  squalid  with  dirt,  form 
but  a disordered  mass,  a chaos  without  name  ; but  at  least  we  may 
find  in  the  midst  of  this  chaos  some  venerable  relic  of  human  thought 
and  labor,  some  historical  monument  to  be  cherished  with  tender 
care,  something  which  has  not  upon  its  front  the  mere  mark  of  the 
practical  and  material  interests  of  the  day. 

This  is  why  those  among  us  who  are  born  with  the  love  of  art  fly 
from  these  deserts  of  brick  and  stone,  wood  and  iron,  to  be  quick- 
ened among  the  ruins  of  Athens,  of  Syracuse,  or  of  Pæstum  ; lor  to 
them  these  dead  cities  are  more  populous  than  are  the  streets  of 
Lyons  or  Manchester. 

The  Greeks  knew  that  an  imaginative  people  must  be  addressed 
in  the  language  of  imagination  ; that  they  must  be  pleased,  and 
would  not  be  content  with  the  mere  satisfaction  of  material  needs. 
If  their  cities  still  preserve  in  the  midst  of  their  ruins  a perfume  of 
art,  it  is  because  art  was  not  among  them  a mere  superfluous  decora- 
tion ; it  ruled  each  structure,  as  a master,  even  from  the  laying  of 
the  corner-stone  ; nay,  it  presided  at  the  foundation  of  the  city. 

Examine  Agrigentum,  for  instance,  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
Dorian  colonies  of  Sicily,  and  see  with  what  care  the  site  of  that 


THE  SITES  OF  GREEK  CITIES. 


Cl 


city  Avas  chosen.  Near  a well-sheltered  harbor  rises  a ridge  of  lime- 
stone rocks  running  parallel  with  the  shore  ; the  Greeks  made  this 
chain  of  little  hills  the  ramparts  of  the  city  on  the  side  where  attacks 
Avere  mostly  to  be  feared,  and  they  cut  the  ridges  of  these  hills  into 
the  form  of  thick  walls  pierced  Avith  gates.  Parallel  to  these  Avails, 
on  the  level  spaces  of  the  rocky  ramparts  behind,  they  built  a series 
of  temples  ; thus  presenting  to  the  eyes  of  strangers  entering  the  har- 
bor a long  line  of  monuments  of  very  different  dimensions,  reposing 
on  an  enormous  base  cut  out  of  the  living  rock.  Between  this  natu- 
ral rampart  and  the  Acropolis  in  the  rear,  Avhich  overlooked  the 
whole  neighborhood,  is  a valley,  at  the  bottom  of  Avhich  the  city  was 
built,  its  habitations  securely  sheltered  from  the  inclement  north 
and  southeast  Avinds  of  Sicily.  On  the  south  the  city  Avas  bounded 
by  a long  range  of  limestone  hills,  whose  summits  Avere  artificially 
levelled  and  occupied  by  temples  Avhose  outlines  were  strongly  de- 
fined against  the  sky,  and  on  the  north  arose  the  Acropolis,  of  Avhose 
monumental  croAvn  scarcely  a vestige  uoav  remains. 

At  Selinus,  another  Dorian  colony  of  Sicily,  the  temples  Avere 
built  on  tAvo  plateaus,  between  Avhich  the  harbor  Avas  situated.  The 
relative  positions  of  these  monuments  Avere  chosen  Avith  rare  taste 
and  skill  ; and  to  isolate  and  distinguish  them  from  the  private 
houses  of  the  city,  they  were  elevated  on  high  basements  or  terraced 
stylobates. 

In  this  manner  the  Greek  architect,  faithful  to  his  principles  of 
availing  himself  of  Nature  and  subjecting  his  compositions  to  her 
influence,  examined  his  sites  Avith  rare  sagacity.  If  he  Avould  con- 
struct a theatre,  he  sought  along  the  slopes  of  the  rocky  hills,  so 
frequent  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Greek  cities,  some  natural  de- 
pression, of  an  aspect  favorable  to  actors  and  spectators  ; then  he 
proceeded  to  cut  the  amphitheatre  of  seats  out  of  the  living  rock, 
completing  by  art  those  portions  Avhere  the  nature  of  the  site  Avas 
wanting  to  his  design.  The  numerous  theatres  of  the  Peloponnesus 
and  of  Sicily  afford  complete  examples  of  this  arrangement.  Favored 
by  climate,  the  Greeks,  in  their  cix  il  monuments,  were  not  governed 
by  the  necessity,  peculiar  to  northern  peoples,  of  covering  and  closing 
in.  If  they  desired  to  bring  together  a great  concourse,  they  con- 
tented themselves  with  building  an  enclosure,  open  to  the  sky  and 
surrounded  Avith  porticos,  or  Avith  simply  arranging  it  on  some  rocky 
slope  Avith  a favorable  exposure.  They  excelled  in  giving  to  these 


G2 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


primitive  monuments  a simple  grandeur  which  never  fell  into  ex- 
aggeration or  tours  de  force , evincing  no  apparent  effort,  and  causing 
none  of  that  wonder  or  perplexity  occasioned  often  by  the  ruins  of 
dead  civilizations.  The  remains  of  Greek  art,  instead  of  bewilder- 
ing us  with  a superhuman  exhibition  of  power,  are  peculiarly  expres- 
sive of  an  actual  life,  which  we,  even  when  none  but  the  faintest 
traces  of  those  remains  are  left,  can  readily  understand  and  appre- 
ciate. 

Unfortunately,  of  the  civil  and  domestic  architecture  of  the  Greeks 
we  possess  little  more  than  these  rock-cut  vestiges.  But  Hercula- 
neum and  Pompeii  may,  by  the  exercise  of  imagination,  realize  to  us 
the  idea  of  a Greek  city,  and  enable  us  to  live  for  a moment  in  the 
midst  of  its  population.  By  all  that  we  can  discover  in  these  curi- 
ous remains  of  Pompeii,  by  a few  ruins  here  and  there,  by  paintings, 
by  the  destroyed  city  of  Segeste,  we  are  led  to  the  inference  that 
the  domestic  architecture  of  the  Greeks  had  as  little  variety  as  their 
religious  structures.  It  is  by  no  such  quality  that  Greek  archi- 
tecture commends  itself  to  our  study.  A good  plan  once  found, 
the  Greek  architect  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to  modify  it 
essentially.  He  had  too  much  good  taste  to  seek  after  the  fan- 
tastic, the  capricious,  the  surprising.  Those  who  truly  love  art  do 
not  exhaust  themselves  in  search  after  novelties  ; for  them  good 
things  are  always  new  and  always  admirable  ; “ a thing  of  beauty 
is  a joy  forever.”  The  Greek  architect  felt  this,  and  in  perfecting 
his  works  he  modified  neither  his  principle  nor  his  theme.  He 
applied  research  only  to  refine  his  detail  ; and  even  when,  in  later 
times,  research  so  applied  fell  into  abuse,  when  grace  became  affec- 
tation, when  purity  became  barrenness,  and  care  was  degraded  to 
minuteness,  we  still  see,  through  all  tins  senility,  the  vivacious 
energy  of  principle.  Even  when  the  Greek  artists  became  the 
obedient  slaves  of  their  too  powerful  neighbors  of  Rome,  they 
still  preserved  for  a long  time,  in  their  freshness,  the  principles 
which  ruled  their  arts  ; but  gradually  the  lessening  remains  of 
this  vitality  faded  away,  until,  under  the  Emperors,  the  Greeks  were 
reduced  to  the  rôle  of  mere  professional  decorators. 

In  the  next  discourse  I propose  to  explain  the  causes  of  this 
decline. 


THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


COMPARISON  BETWEEN  THE  ARCHITECTURE  OF  THE  GREEKS  AM)  ROMANS. 


has  been  already  intimated  that  the  peculiar  charac- 
Hrv  teristic  of  the  Roman  people  was  an  aptitude  to  or- 
ganize  and  govern.  Up  to  their  time,  the  conquerors 
in  history  had  been  anything  but  civilizers  ; to  con- 
quer  a nation  had  been  to  rob  and  enslave  it,  to 
h (ÿ'  degrade  rather  than  to  elevate  ; and,  indeed,  the  Ro- 

mans themselves  were  sometimes  but  greedy  masters,  more  desirous 
of  enriching  themselves  from  their  conquests  than  of  enlightening 
the  people  they  had  subdued.  This  is  not  the  place  to  recount  the 
history  of  the  long  and  bloody  struggles  through  which  the  Romans 
ultimately  became  the  masters  of  Italy,  — struggles  rather  social  than 
political,  since  they  aimed,  on  the  one  hand,  to  preserve  the  wealth 
and  power  of  a handful  of  patricians,  and,  on  the  other,  to  elevate 
the  people  from  a condition  bordering  on  slavery  and  to  conquer  for 
them  the  rights  of  citizens.  This  subject  has  been  well  treated  by 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  our  contemporaneous  writers,  M. 
Mérimée,  who,  under  the  modest  title  of  Essais  sur  la  Guerre  Sociale, 
has  vividly  related  the  terrible  struggles  of  the  last  days  of  the  re- 
public, and  has  discovered  to  us  (though  this  was  not  the  aim  of  his 
work)  the  various  sources  whence  the  Romans  obtained  their  arts. 

The  Romans  of  the  early  republic,  unlike  the  Egyptians,  the 
Oriental  nations,  and  the  Greeks,  had  no  arts  of  their  own.  They 
were  really  a people  insignificant  in  numbers,  under  the  despotism 
of  a few  patricians,  Avho  were  entirely  occupied  in  aggrandizing 
themselves  at  the  expense  of  their  neighbors  ; a species  of  brigands, 
moved  in  the  beginning  but  by  one  common  sentiment,  that  of  domi- 


04 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


nation  and  rapine,  and  enjoying  few  or  none  of  those  blessings  which 
are  procured  by  culture  and  the  love  of  art. 

But  Rome  was  surrounded  by  nations  among  which  the  arts  had 
already  reached  an  extraordinary  development.  Campania  and 
Etruria  were  covered  with  religious,  secular,  and  domestic  structures, 
whose  value  as  works  of  art  are  still  attested  by  remains  of  great 
beauty.  The  Etruscans,  from  a*n  indefinite  and  very  remote  epoch, 
possessed  already  the  vault,  which  was  unknown  to  the  Greeks.  It 
is  doubtful  whence  they  obtained  this  feature,  and  the  hypotheses  on 
this  subject,  while  peculiarly  interesting  to  the  archaeologist,  have  no 
relation  to  the  task  before  us.  Let  it  suffice  here  to  say  that  the  East 
used  the  vault  long  before  it  was  known  to  the  West.  The  recent 
discoveries  at  Nineveh  have  brought  to  light  monuments  with  vaults 
of  mud  or  clay  moulded  over  forms  or  centres,  and  arches  built  with 
voussoirs  of  moulded  bricks..  Now,  the  Romans,  with  rare  sagacity, 
appropriated  all  that  they  found  useful  among  the  nations  with  which 
they  came  in  contact.  Thus  their  soldiers  obtained  their  equipment 
from  many  sources  : their  bucklers  were  Samnite,  their  swords,  Span- 
ish, etc.  Cæsar,  in  Sallust,  says  : “ Whenever  our  people  saw 
among  their  allies  or  their  enemies  anything  which  they  could  make 
useful,  they  took  care  to  appropriate  it  and  apply  it  to  their  needs  at 
home.”  * They  were  essentially  practical  and  utilitarian. 

The  Romans  thus  obtained  from  the  Etruscans  the  round  arch, 
built  of  stones  fitted  together  ; from  Campania,  the  general  arrange- 
ment of  their  sacred  edifices,  the  Greek  orders,  the  plans  and  deco- 
ration of  their  domestic  structures.  In  this  manner  they  sought  to 
unite  two  conflicting  principles  of  construction,  obtained  from  two 
different  sources, — the  principle  of  the  Greek  lintel  and  of  the 
Etruscan  arch.  Their  ideas  of  art  were  those  of  pirates,  who,  with 
barbarous  and  tasteless  pride,  adorn  themselves  with  foreign  and 
incongruous  spoils. 

That  refined  sensibility  of  the  Greeks  which  led  them  to  observe 
with  incomparable  delicacy  all  physical  and  moral  phenomena,  that 
faculty  which,  with  them,  took  the  place  of  science  and  enabled  them 
to  obtain  results  far  beyond  its  reach,  was  unknown  to  the  Romans, 
whose  genius  and  arts  were  different  from  those  of  the  Greeks  in 
character  and  development.  They  were  a political,  legislative,  ad- 


* “Majores  nostri  ....  quod  ubique  apud  soeios  aut  liostes  idoneum  videbatur,  cum 
summo  studio  domi  exsequebantur.” 


THE  ROMANS  ACQUISITIVE,  THE  GREEKS  PRODUCTIVE.  65 


ministrative  people.  The  aristocracy  of  Rome  was  very  powerful,  and 
in  possession  of  admirable  political  traditions,  constantly  gaining  new 
acquisitions  from  all  quarters.  The  senate,  the  supreme  power  of 
Rome,  was  composed  of  the  descendants  of  ancient  families  or  men 
distinguished  in  the  public  service,  who  had  in  their  hands  all  the 
administration  of  state  ; and  this,  at  Rome,  included  war,  the  gov- 
ernment of  conquered  provinces,  legislation,  justice.  The  public 
service  was  the  chief  object  of  ambition  with  every  Roman  citizen, 
and  this  tendency  was  so  strong  among  them  that  even  in  the  last 
days  of  the  republic,  the  Latin  soil  was  divided  between  two  distinct- 
classes, — public  functionaries  and  slaves:  the  former,  all  landhold- 
ers, absorbed  in  political  intrigues  and  the  management  of  their 
estates  ; the  latter,  reduced  to  the  most  abject  state,  delivered  up  to 
robbery  and  all  the  vices  engendered  by  servitude,  ignorance,  and 
idleness.  As  for  the  free  plebeians,  they  were  the  most  barbarous, 
gross,  mercenary,  and  corrupt  populace  that-  ever  filled  a great  city  ; 
unscrupulous,  superstitious,  and  venal,  they  were  the  tools  of  the 
demagogues,  the  victims  of  the  wealth,  the  factions,  and  the  cunning 
of  the  patricians.  Among  a people  so  constituted  and  so  employed, 
the  culture  of  the  arts  is  impossible.  The  Greeks,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  industrious,  commercial,  sensitive  to  physical  and  moral  beauty, 
eager  for  discussion  and  controversy  ; they  were  proud  of  their  hu- 
manity, and  happy  in  the  possession  of  their  poets,  their  historians, 
their  orators  and  artists.  It  is  singular,  in  the  history  of  nations,  to 
meet  with  a people  distinguished  at-  once  by  mercantile  aptitude,  and 
by  an  exquisite  feeling  and  sympathy  for  works  of  art  ; to  see  the 
vanity  of  wealth  compatible  with  a nice  discernment  for  the  true 
principles  of  taste  ; to  behold  a nation,  inconstant  in  ideas,  in- 
conceivably fickle  in  prejudices,  worshipping  a man  one  day  and 
proscribing  him  the  next,  yet  at  the  same  time  progressing  with 
unheard-of  rapidity;  within  the  space  of  a few  years  traversing  all 
systems  of  philosophy,  all  forms  of  government,  laying  the  founda- 
tions of  all  sciences,  making  war  on  all  its  neighbors,  yet,  in  the 
midst  of  tliis  chaos  of  ideas,  systems,  and  passions,  developing  art 
steadily  and  with  calm  intelligence,  giving  to  it  novelty,  originality, 
and  beauty,  while  preserving  it  pure  from  the  aberrations  and  ca- 
prices of  what  we  now  call  fashion.  At  the  time  of  the  battle  of  Sal- 
amis, 480  b.  c.,  Athens  had  been  destroyed,  its  territory  ravaged,  and 
the  Athenians  had  nothing  left  but  their  ships  ; yet  so  great  was  the 


CG 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


activity  of  this  commercial  but  artistic  people,  that,  only  twenty  years 
afterwards,  they  had  built  the  Parthenon  ; and  Æschylus,  who  had 
fought  at  Salamis,  had  produced  his  tragedy  of  the  “ Persians,”  in 
which  the  great  barbarian  king,  the  enemy  of  Greece,  was  repre- 
sented as  heroic  and  noble.  In  this,  doubtless,  was  implied  flattery 
for  those  who  could  conquer  him  ; yet,  as  the  magnanimity  which 
could  commend  alike  the  conqueror  and  the  conquered  would  proba- 
bly be  a severe  trial  for  a modern  audience  and  would  be  hissed 
from  the  stage,  it  was  the  mark  of  a pure  taste  and  a high  art  among 
the  people  of  Athens  that  they  could  appreciate  and  applaud  it. 

Greek  art,  though  it  did  not  always  develop  with  the  same  per- 
fection, never  quitted  the  path  of  progress  ; it  was  a consistent  unit, 
while  all  the  other  expressions  of  the  intelligence  and  versatile  pas- 
sions of  this  singular  people  were  the  victims  of  chance  and  change. 
The  Romans,  on  the  other  hand,  had  but  one  idea,  universal  domina- 
tion ; and  this  idea  was  so  firmly  rooted  in  the  mind  of  the  Roman 
citizen,  that,  within  scarcely  two  centuries,  three  quarters  of  Europe, 
all  Western  Asia  and  Northern  Africa,  became  subject  to  his  will, 
though  even  in  the  days  of  the  republic  there  were  already  symptoms 
of  decomposition  which  foreshadowed  the  fall  of  the  whole  pagan 
system.  The  mechanism  employed  to  obtain  this  result  was  simple  : 
the  Roman  citizen  assumed  the  attitude  of  a sovereign  ; if  he  con- 
quered a territory,  he  seized  and  farmed  out  its  public  domain, 
encouraged  colonization  there,  and  insured  peaceful  possession  for 
the  Romans  and  their  allies  in  the  subjugated  country;  thus  arose 
•on  every  side  colonies  which  were  essentially  and  peculiarly  Roman. 
If  the  Romans  gave  the  title  of  ally  to  a country,  they  assumed  a 
protectorate  over  it,  engaged  to  assist  it  against  its  most  distant 
enemies,  assimilated  its  interests,  and  absorbed  it  in  their  vast  organ- 
ization. By  in  turns  dividing,  flattering,  protecting,  and  chastising 
barbarous  nations,  the  prestige  of  Roman  power  was  gradually 
established  over  the  whole  known  world.  There  was  a unity  in 
the  political  economy  of  Rome  which  did  not  exist  in  that  of  Greece, 
because,  as  I have  already  said,  the  Greek  cities  were  independent 
municipalities,  while  Rome  was  the  centre  of  a vast  hierarchy  which 
could  only  be  broken  up  by  a social  revolution  or  by  a torrent  of 
barbarians. 

This  brief  recapitulation  of  the  Roman  polity  is  necessary  to  a 
comprehension  of  the  character  of  Roman  art,  which  was  but  a 


ART  AN  INSTRUMENT  IN  ROMAN  POLITICS. 


07 


means,  an  instrument,  as  we  have  already  said,  and  not  a joy  for  its 
own  sake,  as  among  the  Greeks.  The  Roman  disdained  everything 
which  did  not  perform  a useful  function  in  this  great  political  sys- 
tem ; he  troubled  himself  little  to  know  whether  a certain  form  of 
art  was  in  harmony  with  the  true  principles  of  that  art  ; he  cared 
not  to  discuss,  like  the  Greek,  whether  his  opinions  were  logically 
deduced  ; he  did  not  delight  in  an  outline,  a play  of  light  and  shade  : 
he  demanded  but  one  thing,  that  his  work  should  be  Roman,  a 
symbol  of  his  grandeur  and  power,  and,  more  especially,  that  it 
should  agree  with  his  political  system,  and  be  a useful  work,  filling 
exactly  a prescribed  programme.  He  made  roads,  bridged  rivers, 
introduced  water  into  cities  by  means  of  immense  aqueducts  ; built 
amphitheatres,  which  should  be  places  of  public  reunion,  not  only  for 
the  municipal  duties,  but  for  the  pleasure  of  the  people.  He  con- 
cerned himself  little  whether  an  allied  or  vanquished  people  pre- 
served their  religion,  provided  they  conformed  to  his  laws  ; on  the 
contrary,  he  incorporated  the  gods  of  the  subject  nations  into  his 
own  polytheism,  and  thus  attached  his  foreign  vassals  to  his  own 
fortunes  by  the  strongest  of  human  ties,  — religion  and  fixed  institu- 
tions. It  was  the  same  with  the  arts.  The  Roman  found  among 
the  Greeks  superior  workmen  ; lie  imported  them,  hired  them,  and 
permitted  them  to  decorate  his  monuments  according  to  their  own 
taste,  but  recognizing  the  artist  only  as  a workman.  As  for  the  gen- 
eral forms  and  plans  of  his  public  buildings,  their  style  and  system 
of  construction,  he  himself,  the  Roman,  imposed  them,  from  the 
Euxine  to  Britannia. 

There  is  certainly  something  grand  in  this  way  of  using  the  art  of 
architecture,  and  it  would  seem,  at  first  sight,  to  be  in  conformity 
with  the  spirit  of  modern  governments  ; yet  we  may  well  doubt 
whether  it  is  really  in  harmony  with  the  character,  manners,  and  tra- 
ditions of  the  western  nations  of  modern  Europe.  In  France,  for 
instance,  endowed,  as  she  is,  with  the  artistic  instinct,  with  imagi- 
nation stronger  than  will,  with  a restless  spirit  ever  ready  to  pursue 
any  chimera  which  presents  itself  in  the  form  of  a sentiment  or  an 
idea,  intellectual  independence,  free  criticism,  study,  discussion,  have 
always  proved  themselves  necessary  elements  in  the  development  of 
her  art  ; it  has  ever  flourished  when  the  field  was  open  to  it,  and 
we  have  beheld  it  enfeebled  and  degraded  whenever  forced  from  its 
natural  growth  by  an  arbitrary  fashion. 


6 8 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


The  relations  between  art  and  politics  should  be  understood.  Art, 
like  a religion,  may  either  be  cherished,  tolerated,  or  neglected  by  a 
nation.  In  the  first  case,  it  develops  proudly  and  freely,  without 
embarrassment  or  constraint,  making,  and  not  receiving,  its  laws  ; in 
the  second,  it  is  subject  to  dictation  and  apt  to  be  used  as  part  of  the 
political  machine  ; in  the  third,  it  is  mysterious  and  exclusive,  it  has 
its  secrets  and  proceeds  by  initiation.  Thus  in  Greece  art,  because  it 
was  loved,  was  made  free  ; there  it  ruled  without  a question  of  au- 
thority ; it  was  pure  and  simple  because  unrestrained.  Among  the 
Romans  it  was  absorbed  by  the  state,  yielded  to  laws  outside  of  itself, 
and  became  an  instrument.  But  in  the  Middle  Ages,  among  the 
western  nations,  especially  in  France,  it  was  isolated  ; it  had  its  own 
language  ; it  developed  in  silence,  receiving  modifications  and  im- 
provements without  regard  to  the  sympathy  or  appreciation  of  the 
multitude. 

I dare  to  hope  that  these  Discourses  will  plainly  set  forth  the  rela- 
tions which  have  existed  and  still  exist  between  the  arts  and  the 
political  economy  of  ancient  and  modern  civilizations.  I say,  which 
still  exist,  because  we  are  in  the  midst  of  a spectacle  full  of  instruc- 
tion to  him  who  observes,  with  an  unprejudiced  mind,  the  general 
tone  of  the  discussions  which  have  arisen  in  regard  to  the  arts.  On 
the  one  side  we  behold  the  preachers  of  antique  art,  on  the  other  the 
apostles  of  mediaeval  art.  I refer  here  to  artists  who  have  strong 
convictions  and  defend  principles,  not  to  those  who  are  ready  to 
adopt  any  form  of  art,  loving  them  all  alike.  I do  not  disdain,  but 
distrust  such  liberal  ideas,  as  wanting  in  that  earnestness  and  sincerity 
without  which  art  cannot  live,  and  without  which  the  public  must 
become  more  and  more  indifferent.  Now,  in  these  two  opposed 
camps  there  is  something  more  than  a mere  array  of  artists,  some 
under  the  banner  of  antiquity,  and  others  under  that  of  mediævalism  ; 
there  are  here  present  two  great  principles,  which,  since  Greek  antiq- 
uity, have  not  ceased  and  do  not  cease  to  wage  bitter  warfare  : these 
principles  are,  on  the  one  hand,  submission  of  individual  intelligence 
to  consideration  of  policy  ; on  the  other,  the  independence  of  the 
human  mind  in  all  which  relates  to  conscience  and  intellectual 
inspiration.  This  warfare  is  not  at  an  end,  and  I do  not  see  that 
anybody  is  to  be  inconvenienced  or  hurt  by  its  duration  ; but  it  is 
well  to  know  what  this  contention  really  implies.  The  adherents  of 
the  antique  have  for  a long  time  confounded  the  Greeks  and  the 


THE  RELATIONS  OF  ART  TO  POLITICS. 


09 


Romans,  while,  in  reality,  the  arts  of  these  two  nations  are  devel- 
oped from  principles  diametrically  opposed  to  each  other,  those  of 
the  former  being  free  and  those  of  the  latter  enslaved  ; and  there  is 
reason  to  believe  that  the  Greek  artists  would  have  found  more 
sympathy  among  those  of  the  Middle  Ages  than  among  the  Romans, 
who  have  hitherto  been  regarded  as  their  allies,  but  were  in  fact  their 
oppressors. 

We  have  seen  that  the  art  of  the  Romans  was  merely  one  of  the 
expressions  of  a great  political  and  administrative  system,  adapted  to 
their  times  and  needs,  but  entirely  exceptional  in  the  history  of 
Europe.  We  have  already  reviewed  the  condition  of  public  affairs, 
in  their  relations  to  art,  before  the  Roman  era.  If  we  now  glance  at 
the  condition  of  things  after  that  era,  we  behold  a spectacle  of  an 
entirely  different  character  : nations  constantly  struggling  against  the 
institutions  which  rule  them,  the  Gallo-Roman  peoples  of  mediae- 
val France  reacting  against  the  ecclesiastical  and  feudal  systems 
imposed  on  them  by  their  barbarian  conquerors  from  Germany  ; 
royalty,  when  it  is  strong  enough,  we  see  availing  itself  of  these 
opposing  elements  to  enfeeble  each  by  turn,  encouraging  rather  than 
preventing  their  endless  quarrels.  In  the  midst  of  this  chaos,  no 
one,  of  course,  cares  about  art  or  dreams  of  imposing  formulae  on  it. 
So  it  is,  as  it  were,  delivered  up  to  itself,  advances  slowly,  and  ex- 
presses itself  whenever  and  wherever  the  tumults  of  the  time  permit. 
It  takes  refuge  in  the  cloister,  but  soon,  stifled  by  the  monkish  rou- 
tine, it  shakes  itself  free  with  the  same  energy  that  we  see  displayed 
at  that  time  in  the  establishment  of  municipal  rights.  The  govern- 
ments of  those  days,  if  we  can  give  the  name  to  such  an  incongruous 
mass  of  institutions,  are  not  wise  enough  to  understand  that  art  is  a 
powerful  element  of  civilization  ; so  they  use  it  without  trying  to 
subject  it.  Art,  indeed,  seems  to  be  the  only  refuge  for  liberty. 
Thus,  in  the  midst  of  a society  tossed  hither  and  thither  in  the  tur- 
bulence of  factions,  degraded  by  excesses,  wasted  in  long  and  cruel 
wars,  we  see  art  advancing  with  steady  and  regular  steps,  diverted 
by  no  side  issues,  rejecting  errors  and  improving  by  experience,  in 
the  same  manner  as,  before  the  Roman  era,  art  pursued  its  regular 
course  in  the  midst  of  the  disorders  and  turbulence  of  Greece.  This 
was  because  art,  in  both  cases,  governed  itself;  because  it  developed 
under  the  study  and  criticism  of  artists  and  by  an  uninterrupted 
succession  of  deductions  ; because  it  was  free  from  the  restraints  of 


70 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


routine,  and  submitted  to  no  academic  formulas;  because  it  drew  its 
inspiration  from  every  source,  and  had  no  other  guide  but  reason 
and  public  sentiment.  Greek  society,  like  the  infèrior  society  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  developed  with  commerce  and  the  arts  ; and  the 
arts,  like  commerce,  developed  only  under  the  condition  of  absolute 
freedom. 

Now,  the  Romans  were  neither  merchants  nor  artists  ; they  main- 
tained no  foreign  relations  according  to  the  modern  fashion,  but,  as 
conquerors  of  the  world,  everything  must  be  Romanized  or  extermi- 
nated, and,  to  obtain  this  end,  the  colonial  and  protectorate  systems 
were  established,  as  already  explained.  All  colonizing  nations,  like  the 
modern  English,  for  instance,  have  employed  the  same  general  means 
to  preserve  their  conquests  and  make  them  tributary  to  the  grandeur 
and  power  of  the  mother  country.  In  the  case  of  the  Romans  these 
means  were  absolute  religious  liberty,  civil  and  personal  guaranties, 
tribunals  appointed  by  the  subject  states  with  au  appeal  to  the  Roman 
magistrate,  who  intervened  in  affairs  only  to  remedy  local  abuses  and 
to  show  how  much  better  the  Roman  government  was  than  that  which 
it  replaced  ; a central  power,  protecting  without  embarrassing  by 
complicated  administrative  machinery  ; the  enrolment  of  the  con- 
quered or  allied  populations  ; and,  what  concerns  our  particular 
subject  more  closely,  important  works  of  public  utility,  clearing 
lands,  fortifying  cities,  draining  marshes,  building  roads,  bridges, 
canals,  aqueducts,  harbors,  civil  structures,  basilicas,  town  halls, 
theatres,  baths,  permanent  camps,  vast  magazines,  sewers,  fountains, 
etc.  The  organization  of  the  conquering  army  itself  Avas  applied  in 
the  construction  of  these  works,  aided  by  numerous  requisitions  for 
laborers  from  among  the  vanquished  people  ; and  soon  the  aspect  of 
the  cities  Avas  changed,  their  plans  were  completed  or  rectified,  they 
Avere  surrounded  with  walls,  and,  within  and  without,  public  estab- 
lishments were  built  according  to  a uniform  fashion  ; thus  in  a feAv 
years  or  even  months  the  Gallic  or  German  city  became  Roman,  and 
conqueror  and  conquered  alike  found  themselves  surrounded  by 
Roman  institutions  and  Roman  monuments.  Under  the  application 
of  such  a system  Ave  can  readily  understand  how  local  traditions  and 
national  sentiments  were  lost  in  the  midst  of  the  manners  and  habits 
of  Rome;  hoAV  the  civilization,  the  regular  government,  the  wealth, 
the  comfort  established  in  the  midst  of  semi-barbarous  peoples,  soon 
effaced  from  their  minds  the  memory  of  their  oavii  ruder  manners 


CONTRAST  BETWEEN  GREEK  AND  ROMAN  GENIUS  IN  ART.  7 1 


and  customs.  The  part  which  art  had  to  play  in  this  great  political 
and  administrative  system  is  sufficiently  evident  ; but  this  part  was, 
and  could  only  be,  very  secondary. 

So  great  is  the  difference  between  Roman  and  Greek  genius  ! The 
Greek  settled  down  upon  no  prescribed  form,  he  was  engaged  in 
ceaseless  inquiry  and  search  after  improvement,  he  examined  his 
subject  in  all  its  bearings,  but  he  expressed  himself  under  the  limi- 
tations of  a logical  principle  founded  on  his  reason,  his  observation, 
and  bis  desire  of  harmony.  The  same  spirit,  applied  to  the  in- 
tellectual domain,  caused  the  philosophers  to  produce  the  most  con- 
flicting  systems  ; for  them,  the  field  of  intelligence  had  no  limit  even 
in  the  absurd,  because,  as  regards  the  immaterial  side  of  nature,  from 
deduction  to  deduction,  following  rigorously  the  rules  of  logic,  we 
can  arrive  at  last  at  the  point  of  proving  the  possibility  of  that  which 
common-sense  declares  and  demonstrates  to  be  impossible,  — at  the 
point  of  denying  movement,  for  instance,  or  being.  But,  in  the 
material  world,  logic,  as  it  has  to  deal  with  visible,  palpable  matter, 
having  its  properties  and  its  insuperable  laws,  can  lead  to  no  such 
aberrations.  The  Greek  architect  may  have  found  various  absurd 
causes  for  the  phenomena  of  gravitation,  but  he  could  not  misunder- 
stand, and  he  knew  he  could  not  infringe  the  laws,  which  governed 
those  phenomena,  lie  may  have  erred  about  the  causes,  but  not 
about  the  effects  ; for  he  was  a careful  and  attentive  observer,  saga- 
cious in  the  practical  application  of  his  observations.  A Greek 
sculptor  did  not  understand  the  principles  of  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  nor  the  exact  functions  of  the  muscles  and  bones  ; but  lie 
observed  the  human  body  in  its  external,  actual,  and  visible  form 
with  a sagacity  which  enabled  him  to  give  to  his  statue  the  outlines 
and  true  movements  of  nature  ; nay,  enabled  him  to  go  beyond 
nature,  to  complete  and  rectify  her,  as  it  were,  by  virtue  of  this 
thorough  observation.  The  Greek  architect  put  a capital  on  his 
column,  but  he  did  not  put  his  column  on  a base,  or,  if  he  did,  it 
was  close  to  the  ground  and  of  circular  plan,  like  the  foot  of  the 
column,  lest  it  impede  the  passage  of  his  portico  ; all  his  methods 
proceeded  from  the  same  observation  of  the  phenomena  of  nature 
and  from  the  same  application  of  obvious  laws. 

But  not  to  pause  longer  over  details,  let  us  proceed  to  the  con- 
sideration of  a fact  which  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  and  which 
merits  all  our  attention.  In  our  preceding  discourse,  we  have  seen 


72 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


how  the  Greek  constructor  reasoned  when  he  built  a temple,  through 
what  a series  of  reasonable  deductions  he  at  length  arrived  at  that 
general  disposition  of  architectural  forms,  that  mutual  agreement 
between  isolated  points  of  support  and  the  thing  supported,  which 
we  call  order.  This  disposition  found,  and  all  its  parts  harmonized 
together,  at  first  by  necessity,  and  then  by  the  strict  observation  of 
their  relative  effects,  functions,  and  of  the  apparent  and  concealed 
nature  of  their  materials,  the  Greek  had  attained  snch  a positive  idea 
of  proportions,  of  a mutual  relationship  of  architectural  features,  that 
no  essential  part  of  his  work  could  be  modified  without  offending  at 
once  that  reason  and  that  exquisite  delicacy  of  feeling  which  had 
combined  to  produce  the  result.  He  was  as  certain  of  the  accuracy 
of  his  reasoning  as  the  mathematician  is  of  the  truth  of  his  demon- 
stration ; and  as  an  architect,  he  was  certain  of  the  perfection  of  his 
senses,  of  his  artistic  perceptions,  because  his  fellow-workers  compre- 
hended and  sympathized  with  them.  In  a word,  he  had  confidence 
in  his  reason  and  in  his  inspiration,  and  he  could  not  admit  that 
reason  and  inspiration  could  solve  a given  problem  in  two  ways, 
both  equally  simple  and  honest.  If  he  doubted  as  a philosopher, 
he  did  not  doubt  as  an  artist,  for  as  such  he  defined  matter,  dealing 
with  it  experimentally.  If  he  did  not  know  the  composition  of 
matter,  he  had  observed  the  effects  of  its  strength,  of  its  weight, 
of  the  light  on  its  surfaces,  of  its  resistance  to  exterior  forces.  The 
result,  then,  which  he  had  reached  was  absolute.  From  this  positive 
character  of  excellence  and  beauty,  in  a given  case,  to  the  exact  repro- 
duction of  that  excellence  and  beauty  when  the  conditions  were 
similar,  was  but  a natural  and  logical  deduction  ; the  Greek  him- 
' self  might  have  reasoned  thus  : “ Since  I have  established  an  archi- 
tectural composition,  all  of  whose  members  are  in  their  necessary 
places,  and  all  so  related  to  each  other  as  to  commend  themselves 
at  once  to  reason  and  the  senses,  this  composition  is  an  expression 
of  order  ; it  is  order.  If  I should  suppress  one  of  its  members, 
or  change  the  relations  established  between  them,  I should  destroy 
my  work.  But  as  my  work  is  perfect,  I must  preserve  it  in  its 
integrity.  I know  it  is  perfect,  because  in  producing  it  I was  at  first 
guided  solely  by  my  reason,  which  taught  me  how  to  lay  my  horizon- 
tal lintels  on  their  perpendicular  supports,  what  space  I ought  to 
leave  between  those  supports,  how  I ought  to  unite  my  portico  to 
the  wall  of  the  cella,  how  I ought  to  shelter  the  whole  ; and  then 


THE 


PANTHEON. 


DETAILS  OF  CONSTRUCTION. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  OLDER  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


my  senses  indicated  the  forms  and  proportions  proper  to  my  build- 
ing, and  how  to  decorate  those  forms.  My  work  is  therefore  abso- 
lutely good.  It  is  a distinct  unity  ; it  has  a right  to  exist  inde- 
pendent of  whatever  dimensions  may  he  given  it,  for  dimensions 
do  not  modify  proportions  ; whether,  therefore,  I have  a portico  to 
build  thirty  cubits  or  ten  cubits  high,  the  relations  between  the 
various  parts  of  this  portico,  that  is  to  say,  between  the  columns, 
their  spaces  apart,  and  the  entablature,  remain  the  same.  My  order 
therefore  is  a distinct  type,  whose  proportions  I am  at  liberty  to 
reproduce  without  regard  to  dimension.” 

If  the  soundness  of  a reason  may  be  measured  by  the  length  of 
time  in  which  it  has  been  practically  applied,  this  reasoning  of  the 
Greeks,  it  must  be  admitted,  is  excellent.  In  fact,  the  Greek  order 
or  orders  once  established,  their  relative  proportions  were  essentially 
preserved  independently  of  scale  ; and  though  used  bv  the  Romans 
with  certain  modifications,  of  which  we  shall  have  occasion  to  speak 
presently,  they  were  never  afterwards  frankly  abandoned,  but  by  the 
architects  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  Greek  architecture  had  a module 
or  unit  of  admeasurement  in  itself,  — the  diameter  of  the  column, 
for  instance  ; but  mediæval  architecture  had  its  module  outside  of 
itself,  that  is,  the  height  of  a man.  Roman  architecture  developed 
a transition  between  these  two  methods,  a transition  arising  from  the 
preference  given  by  the  Romans  to  utility,  the  satisfaction  of  their 
material  desires  over  the  abstract  and  instinctive  art-forms  of  the 
Greeks. 

Roman  architecture,  as  it  is  the  exact  stamp  and  expression  of  a 
vast  political  system,  must  remain  for  us  an  inexhaustible  and  in- 
valuable subject  of  study  ; it  has  a value  peculiar  to  itself.  But  this 
study  must  be  pursued  with  discernment  ; we  must  concern  ourselves 
with  the  truth  there  is  in  this  architecture,  and  not  with  the  details 
which  clothed  this  truth,  regardless  of  honesty  and  propriety  of  ex- 
pression. In  Greek  architecture  the  visible,  exterior  form  was  but 
the  result  of  construction  ; it  may  be  compared  to  a naked  man,  the 
surface  of  whose  body  is  but  the  consequence  of  his  needs,  of  the 
structure  of  his  organs,  of  the  mutual  relations  and  positions  of  his 
bones,  functions,  and  muscles.  His  beauty  increases  when  all  parts 
of  his  1 xxly  are  exactly  fitted  to  their  several  purposes,  • — nothing 
more  or  less.  But  Roman  architecture  is  the  man  clothed  ; the  man 
is  one  thing,  his  clothing  is  another  ; this  clothing  may  be  good  or 


74 


DISCOURSES  ON  AECHITECTURE. 


bad,  rich  or  poor,  well  or  badly  cut,  but  it  is  not  a part* of  his  body; 
if  well  made  and  beautiful,  it  ought  to  be  studied  ; but  if  it  inter- 
feres with  his  movements,  if  there  is  neither  grace  nor  reason  in  its 
forms,  it  should  be  disregarded.  Thus  Roman  architecture  has  its 
true,  real,  useful  system  of  construction,  combined  by  a master-hand 
with  the  view  of  answering  certain  definite  purposes  ; it  has  also  its 
envelope,  its  decoration,  which  is  independent  of  the  structure,  as 
clothing  is  independent  of  the  man.  The  Romans,  as  practical 
people,  attached  but  a secondary  importance  to  this  clothing,  this 
decoration  ; they  wanted  it  simply  to  cover  and  do  honor  to  their 
monuments  ; they  cared  little  whether  it  was  reasonably  applied  or 
not,  whether  or  not  it  indicated  exactly  the  essential  forms  of  the 
construction  of  the  edifice,  and  illustrated  those  forms.  The  Roman 
was  above,  or  rather  did  not  sympathize  with  or  comprehend,  the 
reasoning  of  the  Greek. 

I am  sometimes  accused  of  attributing  too  much  to  reason  and 
too  little  to  sentiment  in  architecture  ; the  positions  I have  assumed 
would  therefore  seem  to  require  from  me  a further  explanation  on 
these  points.  What,  then,  is  sentiment  as  regards  art?  Is  it  not 
an  involuntary  action  of  reason  applied  by  education  to  instinct  ? A 
shepherd’s  dog  is  but  a wolf,  whose  instinct  is  directed  by  his  ani- 
mal reason,  developed  by  education  ; instead  of  eating  the  sheep,  he 
watches  them  lest  they  are  stolen  or  killed.  Our  instinct  causes  us 
to  prefer  various  sounds,  our  sentiment  discriminates  between  true 
and  false  intonations  ; and  why  ? Because  our  reason  has  acted  on 
our  instinct.  The  same  is  true  of  architectural  proportions.  Reason 
acts  upon  the  senses,  independently  of  the  will,  to  govern  them  and 
create  what  we  call  sentiment.  Now,  the  Greeks  were  such  a peo- 
ple of  reasoners  that  a good  many  of  their  philosophers  became  most 
unreasonable  simply  by  the  earnestness  of  their  desire  to  be  rea- 
sonable ; but  this  nation  of  reasoners  was  more  richly  endowed  with 
the  sentiment  of  art  than  any  other;  it  was  the  first  to  establish 
the  orders  of  architecture,  that  is  to  say,  the  first  to  convert  an 
instinct,  that  of  proportions,  into  a law.  Other  nations,  before  the 
Greeks,  had  been  guided  by  the  same  instinct  in  their  buildings, 
as  is  shown  in  their  evident  desire  to  establish  certain  relations 
and  contrasts  between  the  various  parts  ; but  none  of  them  could, 
like  the  Greeks,  elevate  this  instinct  to  the  authority  of  a law  so 
just  that  it  has  never  been  broken  without  detriment  to  the  effect 
produced  on  the  senses. 


THE  SENTIMENT  OE  PROPORTIONS. 


75 


Every  monument  in  the  world  which  is  worthy  of  notice,  from 
the  farthest  east  to  the  limits  of  the  west,  produces  on  the  mind  a 
double  impression,  — admiration  and  pleasure  ; but  there  remains  a 
feeling  of  embarrassment,  of  perplexity,  because  it  requires  an  effort 
of  the  mind  to  understand  ' the  monument,  so  that,  were  it  not  for 
the  desire  of  comprehending  it,  the  mind  of  the  spectator  would  be 
simply  startled.  It  is  reserved  for  the  Greek  monument  alone  to 
produce  a homogeneous  impression,  to  require  no  mental  effort  to 
familiarize  us  with  its  structure  and  intention  ; it  is  as  clear  to  the 
casual  observer  as  to  the  architect  versed  in  the  knowledge  of  his 
art.  It  says  at  once  and  to  all  what  it  has  to  say  ; but,  strange  as  it 
may  appear,  this  very  quality,  so  unique  and  so  lovely,  seems  a fault 
to  those  who  have  become  habituated  by  our  modern  practice  to 
see  in  architecture  a perpetual  enigma.  I have  sometimes  heard  it 
asked,  “ In  what  consists  the  beauty  of  the  Parthenon  ?”  As  well 
might  it  be  asked,  “ In  what  consists  the  beauty  of  a well-made 
youth,  stripped  of  his  clothing?”  We  can  but  reply,  “He  is  beau- 
tiful, because  he  is  ; because,  without  an  effort  of  the  intelligence, 
without  calculation,  we  know  that  he  can  walk,  that  he  is  robust, 
that  he  understands,  sees,  thinks,  that  he  is  complete,  that  he  is  a 
unity.”  By  means  of  their  law  of  the  orders,  the  Greeks,  in  archi- 
tecture, arrived  at  the  same  result.  This  architecture  is  beautiful 
because,  like  the  man,  it  needs  neither  explanation  nor  commentary, 
because  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  I do  not  believe  it  possible  to 
arrive  at  this  perfection  in  any  other  way  than  by  the  application 
of  reason  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  instincts. 

Vitruvius,  who,  though  not  a great  philosopher,  was  imbued  with 
the  Greek  ideas  about  art,  yet  who  saw  only  superficially,  like  a true 
Roman,  began  his  third  book  on  the  temples  with  a chapter  in  which 
he  undertook  to  establish  an  analogy  between  the  proportions  of  the 
human  body  and  those  of  the  temples  and  of  the  orders  which  com- 
pose them. . This  chapter  of  Vitruvius,  in  fact,  establishes  nothing  ; 
it  is  impossible  to  draw  from  it  any  practical  conclusion;  but  it 
raises  a corner  of  the  curtain  which  conceals  the  philosophy  applied 
by  the  Greeks  to  architecture,  if  we  seek  in  the  structure  of  the 
human  body,  not  a metrical  scale,  as  lie  supposes,  to  fix  certain  rela- 
tions between  the  members  of  an  order,  but  a method.  Let  us  not 
forget  that  the  Greeks  were  accustomed  to  take  the  ideal  man  as  their 
starting-point,  and  that  no  people  ever  more  thoroughly  understood 


76 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


man,  both  mentally  and  physically.  In  order  to  establish  laws  of 
architectural  proportion,  as  the  Greeks  did,  such  a starting-point  is 
necessary,  for,  in  the  beginning,  proportions  are  but  arbitrary  rela- 
tions, an  instinctive  desire  not  to  be  defined.  But  the  Greeks,  with 
all  their  poetic  instincts,  were  not  content  with  vague  ideas,  it  rvas 
necessary  for  them  to  apply  a form  or  a principle  to  everything,  even 
in  the  immaterial  world.  Their  mythology  is  the  most  evident  proof 
of  this. 

If  there  remained  to  us  a treatise  on  architecture  by  Ictinus,  he 
would  perhaps  have  afforded  us  a clear  explanation  of  this  analogy 
between  the  human  body  and  the  architectural  structure  in  general 
and  the  orders  in  particular.  In  the  absence  of  such  a treatise, 
let  us  endeavor  to  reason  as  he  would  have  done.  Man,  of  all 
^organized  beings,  is  the  most  complete,  and  this  relative  perfection 
is  so  apparent,  so  real,  that  he  is  at  the  head  of  the  whole  organic 
creation.  He  is  the  myth  of  structure.  If,  then,  we  would  construct, 
we  must  take  him  as  a model,  not  directly  as  regards  the  form  of 
the  thing  to  be  constructed,  but  as  regards  the  method  applicable  to 
such  construction.  Now,  among  organized  beings,  many  have  certain 
organs  in  greater  perfection  than  the  corresponding  organs  in  man, 
many  are  more  agile  or  more  powerful,  but  none  present  so  complete 
an  aggregate  of  physical  faculties  adapted  and  proportioned  to  phys- 
x ical  and  intellectual  needs.  The  Greek,  therefore,  considering  this 
most  perfect  expression  of  harmony  between  requirements  and  ex- 
terior forms,  was  evidently  justified,  when  the  constructional  necessi- 
ties of  his  architecture  were  developed,  in  taking  this  expression  and 
applying  its  principles  to  the  problem  before  him,  so  that  those  ne- 
cessities might  be  confessed,  explained,  and  honored  in  his  building 
in  like  manner.  He  wished  his  building  to  be  beautiful  as  he  him- 
self was  beautiful.  But  it  was  form,  and  not  anatomy,  he  observed 
in  man  ; he  studied  osteology,  for  instance,  only  through  the  visible 
play  of  muscles  and  their  cutaneous  envelope  ; he  did  not  separate 
the  different  parts,  created  to  make  one,  and  distract  himself  from 
the  object  in  view  by  an  independent  analysis  of  them,  but  he  knew 
exactly  their  mutual  relations,  their  functions,  and  their  appearance  ; 
from  the  application  of  this  study  to  his  art  resulted  that  sobriety, 
that  harmonious  relationship  between  the  members  of  his  architecture 
and  their  functions,  which  so  charm  us  in  the  structure  of  the  human 
body.  Vitruvius  was  right  to  this  extent.  But  it  is  necessary  to  be 


. THE  HUMAN  BODY  IN  GREEK  ARCHITECTURE. 


77 


cautious  in  adopting  ideas  evolved  in  the  philosophical  study  of  an  art 
so  positive  as  architecture.  Permit  me  therefore  to  offer  a practical 
illustration  of  the  principles  I have  here  endeavored  to  set  forth. 

In  the  structure  of  every  organized  being,  and  more  particularly 
in  that  of  man,  whatever  may  be  his  movement  or  attitude,  the  bony 
system  is  always  apparent  in  salient  points  united  by  convex  or  concave 
surfaces,  according  to  the  character  of  the  fleshy  parts  between  them. 
The  more  energetic  the  movement,  the  straigliter  do  these  curves  be- 
come. The  Greeks  have  shown  their  comprehension  of  this  rule  in 
their  statuary,  and  they  seem  to  have  applied  it  to  their  architecture. 
Before  their  time,  the  Egyptians,  in  the  profiles  of  their  architecture, 
had  certainly  in  view  the  imitation  of  vegetable  forms.  Their  capi- 
tals, for  example,  evidently  reproduced  the  curves  of  flowers  or  fruits. 
The  Greeks,  on  the  contrary,  in  their  profiles,  recalled  rather  the 
curved  surfaces  of  muscles  or  of  the  fleshy  integument  between  the 
extremities  of  the  bones.  When  the  artist  would  give  an  appearance 
of  vigor  to  an  architectural  member,  in  tracing  the  profile  of  it  he 
followed  the  energetic  lines  which  characterize  the  muscles  when  in  a 
state  of  violent  tension.  He  did  not  trace  these  profiles  by  any  me- 
chanical means,  as  the  compass  ; his  hand  was  only  guided  by  his 
exquisite  feeling  for  the  forms  which  he  had  observed  and  knew  so 
well.  The  outline  of  the  Doric  capital,  for  example,  in  the  most 
ancient  Greek  monuments,  presents  an  emphatic  curve  (Eig.  1,  pro- 
file A*)-  But  the  true  artist,  not  content  with  the  first  expression  of 
his  idea,  dwelt  upon  it,  that  he  might  perfect  it  and  make  it  a more 
faithful  exponent.  The  outline  of  the  primitive  Doric  capital  pres- 
ently appeared  to  him  to  want  energy,  not  to  indicate  its  function  of 
support  with  sufficient  clearness  ; so  he  traced  the  profile  B ; f then 
he  reduced  the  moulding  to  a mere  inverted  truncated  cone,  uniting 
the  projection  of  the  abacus  with  the  upper  circumference  of  the 
column  with  a straight  line,  as  shown  by  the  profile  C.f  Thus,  by 
the  exercise  of  his  reason,  the  Greek  architect  insensibly  passed  from 
the  capital  A,  whose  echinus  resembles  a cushion,  a soft  body  inter- 
posed between  the  shaft  and  the  abacus,  to  the  capital  C,  whose  form 
and  almost  bald  profile  expresses  an  energetic  support,  bringing  the 
weight  of  the  abacus,  and  that  which  the  abacus  sustains,  to  bear 
directly  on  the  shaft  of  the  column. 

* From  the  Acropolis  of  Selinus. 

+ From  the  Parthenon. 

t From  the  temple  of  Ceres  at  Eleusis. 


7S 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Fig.  12. 


If  we  examine  these  profiles  attentively,  we  shall  see  that  the  rea- 
son of  the  constructor  and  the  sentiment  of  the  artist  proceed  together 
in  them.  The  architrave,  hearing  on  the  capital  A,  the  most  ancient 
of  the  three,  presents  its  face  at  D,  on  a line  with  the  shaft.  Subse- 
quently the  constructor  of  the  Parthenon  was  shocked  to  see  the 
useless  projection  I)  G of  the  abacus,  and  remedied  the  difficulty  by 
advancing  the  face  of  the  architrave,  bearing  on  his  capital  B,  to  the 
point  E,  thus  making  it  overhang  the  shaft  so  as  to  require  a more 
energetic  curve  in  the  echinus.  Subsequently  the  architect  advanced 
the  architrave  still  farther,  to  the  point  E on  the  capital  C,  and  ac- 
cordingly exaggerated  the  expression  of  support  in  that  capital. 

It  is  evident  that  the  Greeks,  in  their  buildings  of  stone  or  mar- 
ble which  are  known  to  us,  did  not  imitate  wood  construction  ; nor, 
in  the  details  of  these  buildings,  did  they  follow  vegetable  forms, 
as  the  Egyptians  always  did,  and  as  the  Romans  and  the  architects 
of  the  Middle  Ages  attempted  to  do. 

I have  said  that  the  Greeks  were  the  first  who  established  certain 


THE  DOEIC  AND  IONIC  OEDEES. 


79 


laws  of  proportions  which  we  call  orders  ; we  should  not  conclude 
from  this  that  these  orders  were  absolute  in  all  their  members  and 
relations.  They  were  not  such  as  to  interfere  with  the  necessary 
liberty  of  the  artist,  and  though  they  might  establish  certain  fixed 
relations  between  the  different  parts  of  the  Doric  order  at  the  same 
epoch,  great  freedom  and  infinite  variety  were  allowed  in  their  ap- 
plication ; yet  the  Doric  order  remains  always  the  Doric  order,  as  a 
man  is  always  a man,  though  one  is  robust  and  another  delicate  : this 
example  of  the  order  may  be  short  and  stout,  and  that  may  be  light 
and  slender.  This  variety  does  not  destroy  the  relative  harmony  or 
the  relative  proportions  in  either  case.  The  Greeks  never,  either  in 
their  statuary  or  their  architecture,  put  the  head  and  torso  of  a 
Hercules  on  the  legs  of  a Bacchus,  or  a heavy  and  robust  entabla- 
ture on  slender  and  widely  spaced  columns.  The  study  of  the 
mutual  relations  which  ought  to  exist  in  an  order  was  applied  even 
to  the  smallest  details  ; it  embraced  not  only  the  columns,  capitals, 
entablatures,  intercolumniations,  the  solids  and  voids  of  the  colon- 
nade, but  the  mouldings,  their  size,  profiles  and  projections,  and  (so 
far  as  we  can  judge)  their  color. 

The  Greeks  nearly  always  confined  themselves  to  two  orders,  the  N 
Doric  and  Ionic.  If  we  compare  these  two  orders,  we  shall  readily 
discover  that  each  possesses  a proper  harmony  of  its  own,  although 
both  are  derived  from  the  same  principle.  The  structure  is  the  same, 
the  manner  alone  differs.  If  the  Doric  order  is  grave  and  simple  in 
its  general  composition,  this  expression  extends  to  the  least  details, 
and  the  effect  is  obtained  by  the  outlines,  the  shadows,  the  play  of 
light  and  shade  on  broad  surfaces,  and  by  the  character  of  the  mould- 
ings, as  we  have  already  seen.  The  characteristic  of  the  Ionic  order, 
as  distinguished  from  the  gravity  and  simplicity  of  the  Doric,  is  ele- 
gance ; a quality  pervading  not  only  the  general  proportions,  but  all 
the  details,  and  expressed  by  more  delicate  and  more  frequent  sub- 
sidiary features  and  ornamentation.  The  Doric  seems  made  for  use 
in  large  monuments,  which  from  their  position  are  destined  to  be 
seen  from  a distance  ; the  Ionic  appears  appropriate  for  closer  in- 
spection, to  occupy  the  eye  by  refinement  of  details.  We  might 
almost  say  that  the  Doric  is  male,  and  the  Ionic  female  ; yet  both  J 
adhere  to  the  general  principles  which  the  Greek  architect  deemed 
applicable  to  the  structure  of  the  orders.  If,  in  the  Ionic,  the  shafts 
are  more  slender  than  in  the  Doric,  they  are  covered  by  more  minier- 


80 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


oils  Ratings,  and  their  capitals,  decorated  with  sculpture,  are  more 
important.  The  members  of  the  entablature  are  more  divided,  and 
the  shafts  rest  upon  circular  bases  ; for  the  artist  instinctively  felt 
that,  in  adorning  his  capital,  and  in  treating  his  shaft  with  greater 
delicacy,  the  shaft  should  not  rise  abruptly  from  the  stylobate,  but 
should  be  introduced  by  a feature  of  transition  between  the  hori- 
zontal base  and  the  perpendicular  support.  But  both  orders,  as  we 
have  remarked,  are  subject  to  the  same  general  laws;  the  antœ  or 
pilasters,  for  instance,  never  have  the  same  capital  as  the  columns  in 
Greek  architecture,  for  the  artist  had  too  much  sense  to  place  on  a 
flat  pilaster  or  on  the  end  of  a wall  (antri)  a feature  which  he  had 
found  appropriate  to  crown  a column  or  shaft  of  circular  section. 
So  closely  are  the  two  orders  assimilated  in  structure,  that  certain 
secondary  features  expressive  of  construction  — the  triglyphs,  for  in- 
stance — were  not  abandoned  in  the  Ionic  till  a comparatively  late 
period. 

We  have  observed  that  the  adoption  of  the  orders  never  interfered 
with  the  independence  of  the  Greek  in  designing.  He  never 
wearied  in  his  search  for  absolute  perfection.  The  play  of  light  and 
shade  upon  his  masses  and  details,  the  picturesqueness  of  his  out- 
lines against  the  sky,  all  his  effects  in  short,  as  we  have  seen,  were 
studied  with  fastidious  care.  He  was  endowed  with  perceptions  far 
too  delicate  to  permit  him  to  submit  to  any  blind,  inflexible  law. 
If  he  admitted  formal  symmetry,  it  was  rather  as  a poise  or  balance 
than  a geometrical  rule.  The  remains  of  Greek  monuments,  the 
precious  descriptions  of  Pausanias,  make  it  evident  that  the  Greeks 
never  endeavored,  as  we  do,  to  obtain  a grand  general  effect  by  sub- 
mitting all  the  edifices  of  a public  place  to  the  same  order,  without 
regard  to  the  destination  of  each  one.  They  had  their  laws,  like 
nature  ; but,  like  her,  they  obeyed  these  laws  with  a result  of 
infinite  variety.  A Greek  architect,  called  upon  to  admire  the 
symmetrical  beauty  of  our  great  modern  architectural  conceptions, 
our  vast  façades,  uniform  without  regard  to  differences  of  position 
and  destination,  in  the  parts  of  which  they  are  composed,  would  be 
apt  to  say  to  us,  in  pity  : — ^ 

“ Since  you  think  that  beauty  consists  in  great  part  in  symmetry, 
why  do  you  not,  try  to  have  the  sun  rise  and  set  at  the  same  moment, 
so  that  your  edifices  may  always  be  lighted  on  two  sides  at  once  ? 
In  nature  everything  proceeds  by  contrasts  ; we  know  good  by  its 


MODERN  SYMMETRY. 


81 


opposition  to  evil,  we  know  that  light  cannot  exist  without  shade, 
that  a thing  is  large  or  small  only  relatively,  that  no  two  beings  of 
the  same  species  are  identically  similar  ; and  yet  you  expect  to  attain 
the  beautiful  and  the  good  by  changing  the  natural  order  of  things, 
by  substituting  uniformity  for  variety.  Here,  for  example,  is  a 
public  place  surrounded  by  buildings:  this,  you  tell  me,  is  a tribu- 
nal of  justice,  that  the  palace  of  a minister,  another  contains  public 
offices,  a fourth  is  a barrack,  a fifth  is  designed  for  a public  treasury, 
and  a sixth  for  a great  hall  ; but  if  you  do  not  inscribe  upon  the 
doors  of  these  several  establishments  their  respective  characters  and 
destinations,  how  am  I to  distinguish  them?  This  side  of  your 
square  is  exposed  to  the  sun  all  day  long,  and  that  remains  in  shade  ; 
yet  I perceive  porticos  of  a similar  character  on  both  sides.  The 
windows  for  the  offices  of  your  clerks  are  the  same  as  those  for  your 
great  hall.  I see  the  same  decoration  sculptured  on  the  friezes  of 
all  these  buildings,  they  are  crowned  by  the  same  emblems  {aero- 
teria ) ; yet  you,  who  do  these  things  so  unreasonably,  and  say  that 
it  is  to  satisfy  rules  of  art,  pretend  that  you  are  inspired  by  our 
customs  ! It  is  evident  you  have  never  visited  Attica,  the  Pelopon- 
nesus, or  our  colonies.  Because  you  have  used  a form  of  our  orders 
at  hazard,  and  without  apparent  motive,  and  have  in  a manner 
adopted  our  capitals  and  entablatures,  this  does  not  prove  that  you 
are  inspired  by  our  art  ; for  architecture  does  not  consist  in  repeating 
on  a façade  fragments  which  you  have  stolen  or  badly  copied  from 
us.  I know  not  what  kind  of  a people  you  are,  but  it  is  evident 
that  you  are  neither  Greeks  nor  Romans.  Our  architects  had  laws 
also,  but  they  had  them  to  interpret,  not  to  submit  to,  like  a flock 
of  sheep  crowding  along  the  same  path  under  the  guidance  of  the 
shepherd’s  crook.  Their  first  thought,  when  the  construction  of  a 
monument  was  confided  to  them,  was  exactly  to  fulfil  all  the  con- 
ditions of  the  programme  before  them  ; they  desired  so  to  treat  this 
design,  both  as  regards  general  disposition  and  subordinate  sculp- 
ture, that  all  should  know  from  these  the  destination  of  the  struc- 
ture ; they  so  selected  or  availed  themselves  of  the  peculiarities  of 
its  site,  that  in  all  its  aspects  it  should  be  fitted  for  its  destination  ; 
they  would  not  have  decorated  a building  for  the  accommodation  of 
clerks  like  the  palace  of  a chief  magistrate  or  a ball-room.  Loving 
their  work,  studying  it  under  all  its  aspects,  returning  to  it  again 
and  again,  designing  and  redesigning,  fastidiously  correcting  all  its 
6 


82 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


details,  they  aimed  to  leave  no  part,  however  minute,  unfinished  or 
imperfect  ; they  arose  from  their  task  with  regret,  fearing  to  have 
forgotten  some  detail,  to  have  neglected  some  secret  corner,  to  have 
left  some  point  open  to  criticism.  They  would  never  conceal  plaster 
or  cheap  wooden  partitions  behind  magnificent  façades.  Do  not 
say,  then,  that  you  are  following  in  our  footsteps  ; though  you  have 
stolen  from  us  a few  tattered  remnants  and  decked  yourselves  with 
them,  like  savages  who  think  to  command  respect  by  throwing  over 
their  shoulders  a rag  of  royal  purple,  you  do  not  understand  our 
spirit  or  the  language  of  our  art.  Indeed,  those  who  preceded  you 
in  this  very  city  a few  centuries  ago,  and  whom  you  stigmatize  as 
barbarians  resemble  us  much  more  closely  than  you  yourselves. 
Though  they  spoke  another  language,  and  worked  under  other  in- 
spirations and  with  different  motives,  I can  comprehend  them  and 
can  see  that  they  reasoned,  that  they  felt,  and  knew  how  to  express 
what  they  wished  to  say.  I understand  that  you  boast  of  having 
Greek  artists  in  your  schools.  Is  this  sarcasm  ; and  do  you  be- 
lieve that  you  are  rendering  a wise  homage  to  us,  by  taking  our 
garments  which  were  not  made  for  you,  and  which  you  know  not 
how  to  wear,  while  rejecting  or  misunderstanding  our  intelligence 
and  our  spirit  ? ” 

An  ancient  Greek,  transported  to-day  to  Paris  or  London,  might 
utter  language  like  this,  and  he  would  have  cause  for  much  more 
indignant  criticism,  which  perhaps  I could  not  prudently  repeat. 

Now  that  we  comprehend  how  the  Greek  mind  applied  perfect  art 
to  their  works,  we  perhaps  can  better  appreciate  the  spirit  of  the 
Romans. 

The  Roman  people  had  numerous  armies,  and  a population  of 
slaves  at  least  double  that  of  freemen  or  citizens  : these  were  avail- 
able for  their  works  of  public  utility  ; these  constituted  their  material 
power.  Prom  their  conquests  and  their  manner  of  administering 
these  conquests,  immense  riches  poured  into  the  public  treasury. 
With  their  material  resources  they  built  structures,  and  with  their 
riches  they  paid  for  artists  and  precious  materials.  Hence  the  con- 
struction and  the  decoration  of  their  monuments  were,  as  we  have 
said,  two  distinct  operations.  Their  methods  of  construction  and 
of  decoration  were  the  practical  results  of  their  social  condition. 
Armies  and  innumerable  troops  of  slaves  were  at  their  disposal  in 
every  part  of  Europe,  and,  without  any  special  instruction,  were 


THE  BOM  AN  METHOD  OF  BUILDING. 


83 


available  for  all  the  preparatory  labors  of  building;  they  could  cut 
stones,  they  could  cart  sand,  they  could  make  mortar  and  bricks. 
With  these  elements  of  labor  at  hand,  the  most  convenient  method 
of  constructing  great  monuments  was  not  certainly,  save  in  some  ex- 
ceptional cases,  to  use  materials  of  great  dimensions,  requiring  skilful 
craftsmen  to  quarry  and  cut  them,  complicated  engines  to  transport 
and  lay  them,  — a slow  and  cautious  process  of  building.  But  by  the 
aid  of  the  numerous,  and  for  the  most  part  unintelligent  laborers  at 
their  command,  the  Romans  provided  enormous  quantities  of  small 
material,  moulded  the  bricks,  slacked  the  lime  on  the  spot,  and  carted 
the  sand  ; then  the  architects  designated  the  points  of  support,  and 
the  position  and  character  of  the  walls  to  be  reared  ; hundreds  of 
workmen  under  military  supervision  and  strict  mechanical  superin- 
tendence proceeded  to  mix  the  mortar  and  bring  to  the  site,  in  their 
arms,  rubble-stone,  gravel,  and  bricks,  and,  while  selected  workmen 
laid  up  the  rough  faces  of  the  walls,  the  masses  behind  were  tilled 
with  compact  concrete.  When  they  had  thus  reared  the  walls  to  the 
desired  height,  the  science  of  the  architect  again  intervened  to  pre- 
pare and  lay  in  place  temporary  centres  or  forms  of  wood  from  the 
abundant  forests  of  Gaul  or  Germany,  on  which  the  masons  and  labor- 
ers moulded  the  arches  and  vaults  of  the  structure  with  their  brick, 
their  rubble,  and  their  mortar  or  concrete.  Thus  a skilful  superin- 
tendent, a few  carpenters  and  masons,  and  hundreds  of  strong  and 
disciplined  arms,  could  elevate  the  greatest  monument  in  a few  months. 
Nothing  in  modern  times  recalls  the  Roman  method,  but  our  great 
railway  works  of  engineering.  Their  best  constructions  of  art  were 
reared  by  employing,  in  the  same  manner,  a few  intelligent  workmen, 
and  innumerable  laborers,  working  blindly  and  mechanically  under 
regular  and  severe  surveillance,  and  according  to  certain  formulas 
established  by  experience.  In  support  of  what  I have  said,  and  in 
proof  of  the  indifference  of  the  Romans  for  the  decoration  of  their 
edifices,  innumerable  monuments  of  public  utility  might  here  be 
mentioned,  which  they  suffered  to  remain  in  the  rough  state,  with- 
out feeling  any  desire  through  the  lapse  of  centuries  to  cover  them 
with  their  envelope  of  art.  The  Porta  Majora,  an  arch  of  triumph, 
a purely  monumental  conception  erected  by  Tiberius  Claudius,  son 
of  Drusus,  to  celebrate  the  introduction  of  water  by  the  Claud  ian 
Aqueduct  into  Rome,  never  had  its  rough  walls  plastered,  even  with 
roughcast  of  gravel  and  mortar,  though  it  was  subsequently  restored, 


84 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


together  with  the  aqueduct,  by  Vespasian  and  his  son  Titus.  The 
founders  as  well  as  the  restorers  of  this  magnificent  work  took 
care  to  record  their  munificence  by  inscriptions,  but  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  give  it  the  finishing  touch.  But  a Greek,  before 
causing  his  name  to  be  engraved  on  a structure  erected  at  his 
expense,  would  make  sure  that  it  was  completed,  and  worthy  to 
transmit  to  posterity  the  memory  of  his  good  taste  and  love  of  art. 
Even  in  the  Coliseum  there  are  portions  where  the  roughcast  is 
but  begun.  But  negligences  of  this  kind  are  more  frequent  in  the 
provinces  than  in  the  capital.  At  Provence,  the  amphitheatre  of 
Nismes  is  but  incompletely  roughcast,  and  the  great  aqueduct, 
called  the  Pont  du  Gard,  has  only  received  this  finish  in  a few 
places.  We  can  find  similar  evidence  of  indifference  for  the  forms 
of  art  in  all  the  provinces  of  the  Empire.  That  which  especially 
occupied  the  thoughts  of  the  Romans,  with  regard  to  their  architec- 
ture, was  the  plan,  that  is  to  say,  the  exact  accommodation  of  the 
various  services  to  which  their  buildings  were  to  be  devoted  respec- 
tively, the  relative  dimensions  of  the  apartments,  and  more  especially 
were  they  distinguished  from  us,  who  pretend  to  draw  inspiration 
from  their  works,  by  careful  selection  and  arrangement  of  site,  by 
judicious  regard  for  the  natural  levels  of  the  soil,  and  by  economy. 
The  Roman,  it  must  be  understood,  was  not  parsimonious  ; but  he 
was  economical,  that  is  to  say,  he  strove  to  avoid  waste,  both  of 
land  and  of  material.  He  did  not  comprehend  that  artistic  feeling 
which  prompted  the  Greek  and  the  mediaeval  builders  to  work  for 
their  own  honor  ; but,  according  to  his  understanding,  the  sculptor 
he  employed  labored  for  the  public  good,  and  to  celebrate  the  mu- 
nificence of  the  Roman  benefactor.  He  did  not  call  the  artist  to  his 
aid  till  the  material  purpose  of  the  monument  was  attained,  and  then 
merely  as  a dresser  of  the  work  ; and  with  reference  to  these  finish- 
ing processes,  his  concern  was  not  for  delicacy  or  refinement  of 
detail,  but  rather  that  his  monument  should  be  covered  with  precious 
marbles,  rich  in  color  ; and,  with  the  taste  of  a parvenu , he  esteemed 
these  marbles  in  proportion  to  their  rarity  and  difficulty  of  working. 

But  with  the  Greeks  every  workman  was  an  artist.  Ho  not 
expect  from  them  constructions  in  which  man  is  but  a machine. 
There  was  hardly  a cubic  yard  of  mortar  or  concrete  in  their  build- 
ings ; the  foundations  were  hastily  laid  up  of  dry  stones,  and  they 
avoided  this  mere  mechanical  and  concealed  work  as  much  as  they 


MISUSE  OP  GEEEIv  FORMS  BY  TI1E  ROMANS. 


85 


could  by  elevating  their  monuments  on  the  living  rock  in  which 
their  territory  abounded  ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  they  endeavored 
that  no  part  of  the  structure  above  the  level  of  the  ground  should  be 
concealed  ; for  the  stone-cutter  had  his  sentiment  of  vanity  as  well  as 
the  sculptor.  He  wished  that  his  stone  should  have  at  least  one  face 
apparent.  If  the  Greek  did  not  employ  vaults,  it  was  not  because 
he  did  not  know  them  (a  fact  not  easily  proved),  but  because  this 
method  of  construction  required  strong  abutments,  inert  masses  of 
pier  and  wall,  and  they  shrank  from  the  vast  amount  of  merely 
mechanical  labor,  whose  results  must  necessarily  be  concealed  in 
such  construction.  Whatever  were  the  advantages  of  vaulted  con- 
struction, these  advantages,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Greeks,  did  not  com- 
pensate for  the  humiliation  implied  in  the  laborious  heaping  up 
of  masses.  Besides,  if  the  nature  of  their  country  was  such  as  to  do 
away  with  the  necessity  of  building  foundations,  it  was  prodigal  of 
the  most  admirable  materials  ; or,  if  they  did  not  have  marbles,  as 
in  Magna  Græcia  and  Sicily,  they  covered  the  stone  they  employed 
with  a fine  stucco,  applied  with  inimitable  care  and  skill  ; and  this 
stucco  they  colored  in  such  a manner  as  to  adorn  and  confess  the 
construction,  for,  like  true  artists,  they  respected  the  labor  of  their 
hands,  and  would  conceal  from  no  eyes  the  details  of  their  work. 

When  the  Roman  had  completed  liis  construction  in  the  manner 
indicated,  and  the  material  and  practical  part  of  the  programme  had 
been  thus  fulfilled,  if  he  had  capable  artists  at  his  disposal,  or  if  he 
could  procure  marbles,  without  regard  to  cost  and  even  from  the 
most  distant  countries,  he  would  cover  his  rough  walls  with  a thin 
veneering  of  the  precious  material,  he  would  decorate  it  with  mould- 
ings, he  would  closely  embrace  them  with  the  columns  and  entabla- 
tures which  he  tried  to  copy  from  the  Greeks,  and  like  them,  but 
without  their  honesty  in  confessing  construction,  would  cover  his 
vaulted  ceilings  with  stucco  moulded,  painted,  and  gilded.  But, 
comparatively,  the  Greek  monuments  were  small  and  the  Roman 
monuments  were  vast  and  lofty.  The  Roman  therefore  found  himself, 
he  thought,  obliged  to  superimpose  the  Greek  orders.  But  his  mis- 
understanding of  the  Greek  spirit  appeared  more  distinctly  in  the 
fact  that,  while  the  Greek  orders  were  simply  the  artistic  treatment 
of  a construction  of  posts  and  lintels,  the  Roman  admitted  little  else 
than  the  arch  and  .vault  in  his  public  edifices;  and  yet,  against  the 
faces  of  the  piers  which  supported  his  arches,  lie  would  apply  col- 


8G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


umns  bearing  entablatures  over  the  arches  themselves  ; that  is,  he 
would  use  the  Greek  construction  simply  as  a frame  to  decorate  his 
own.  This  singular  blunder  is  the  best  illustration  of  how  entirely 
the  Roman  separated  construction  from  decoration,  regarding  the 
latter  only  as  a luxury,  a garment  of  whose  proper  usage  or  origin  he 
cared  very  little. 

It  is  in  this  complete  misapplication  of  the  Greek  orders  that  the 
example  of  the  Romans  should  be  avoided  ; and  yet,  so  entirely  are 
the  most  reasonable,  obvious,  and  sensible  principles,  principles  true 
and  immutable  for  all  times  and  places,  forgotten  by  those  who  should 
proclaim  and  practise  them  as  axioms,  that  this  self-evident  error  has 
been  repeated  and  perpetuated  ever  since  the  revival  of  Roman  archi- 
tecture in  the  fifteenth  century.  To  place  a lintel  above  an  arch  is 
certainly  most  unreasonable  ; for  the  arch,  being  itself  a means  of 
discharging  superincumbent  weight,  should  be  above  the  lintel  which 
can  hardly  sustain  its  own.  It  is  a rule  for  all  time  that  the  fragile 
thing  should  be  protected  by  the  strong  thing,  and  not  the  reverse. 
Everybody  has  observed  how  peasants,  when  on  their  way  to  market, 
carry  their  shoes  in  their  hands  and  do  not  put  them  on  till  they 
enter  the  city.  What  would  be  said  of  him  who  should  infer  from 
this  that  shoes  were  made  to  be  carried  in  the  hand  when  walking, 
and  to  be  put  on  when  sitting  down  P Which  of  you  would  adopt 
this  usage  and  stigmatize  as  barbarians  those  who  walk  with  their 
feet  shod?  The  foot  may  be  admirable  in  form  and  the  shoe  a mas- 
terpiece, yet  it  is  no  less  true  that  shoes  were  made  to  be  worn  on  the 
feet,  and  not  to  be  carried  in  the  hand.  It  is  not  sufficient  to  admire 
and  cherish  the  works  of  antiquity,  but  to  see  that  they  are  properly 
used.  Now,  a Greek  of  the  time  of  Pericles  would  be  shocked  to  see 
a lintel  on  columns  engaged  or  built  into  the  wall  and  surmounting 
an  arch.  He  would  not  fail  to  ask  whether  the  lintel  so  used  had 
not  proved  too  weak  for  its  work,  and  whether,  as  an  afterthought, 
the  arch  had  not  been  placed  beneath  it  and  between  the  columns  to 
support  and  strengthen  it.  But  we  believe  the  Greek  would  shrug 
his  shoulders  when  told  that  this  construction  was  originally  con- 
ceived so  and  is  an  architectural  combination.  It  may  be  said,  as 
we  are  not  Greeks,  we  have  no  right  to  testify  our  disapprobation 
when  such  blunders  are  committed  before  our  eyes  ; but  we  have  a 
right  to  use  our  minds,  and,  in  inheriting  Roman  architecture,  it  is 
our  privilege  and  duty  to  reject  that  part  which  is  bad  and  to  retain 


ROMAN  ART. 


87 


that  which  is  good  ; to  distinguish  its  construction,  which  is  excel- 
lent, from  its  borrowed  envelope  ; to  recognize  the  qualities  which 
are  peculiar  to  Roman  and  to  Greek  art,  and  not  to  confound  them 
in  the  same  indiscriminate  and  vulgar  admiration  ; to  separate  them 
as  being  each  the  expression  of  different  and  even  hostile  principles  ; 
to  see,  in  short,  in  the  first,  at  once  the  largest  and  most  delicate 
expression  of  the  finest  instincts  of  humanity,  in  the  second,  a blind 
submission  to  the  material  wants  and  the  administrative  organization 
of  a powerful  political  state. 

The  original  Greek  architecture  presents  itself  to  us  in  but  a feiv 
scattered  religious  monuments  almost  totally  ruined  ; its  rare  and 
precious  remains  often  elude  the  search  of  the  critic  ; in  our  admira- 
tion for  these  shattered  remnants  of  a marvellous  art,  we  must  eagerly 
seek  for  those  fruitful  and  too  long  forgotten  principles  of  truth 
which  lie  in  them.  But  Roman  architecture,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
omnipresent  in  the  antique  world,  and  appears  in  structures  of 
every  kind  from  the  public  road  and  the  aqueduct  to  the  triumphal 
arch  and  the  votive  column.  The  history  of  the  Roman  people  from 
the  end  of  the  republic  is  well  known  to  us,  certainly  better  known 
than  our  own  ; we  are  familiar  with  their  laws  and  customs  ; it  is  not 
therefore  a difficult  task  to  trace,  through  this  great  history,  the 
progress  of  their  arts  ; for  these,  as  well  as  their  religion,  were  but 
the  instruments  of  an  invariable  policy.  “ It  was  neither  fear  nor 
piety  which  established  religion  among  the  Romans,”  said  Mon- 
tesquieu,*' “ but  the  necessity,  common  among  all  peoples,  of  having 
a religion.”  And  further  on  he  says,  “ I find  this  difference  between 
Roman  legislators  and  those  of  other  nations,  — the  former  made 
religion  for  the  state,  the  latter  made  the  state  for  religion.”  The 
same  passage  may  be  applied  to  the  arts,  which  the  Romans  used, 
because  they  were  a mark  of  civilization  ; art  with  them  was  an 
affair  of  fashion  and  expediency,  not  a conviction  as  among  the 
Egyptians  and  the  Greeks.  And  here  it  is  worthy  of  remark, 
that  when  the  Romans  built  a temple,  that  is  to  say,  a sanctuary 
for  divinity,  they  borrowed  the  order  and  general  plan  from  the 
Greeks.  They  had  no  temples  of  their  own,  like  the  Egyptians  or 
Greeks.  The  official  religion  of  Rome  was  a Greek  importation. 
In  mythology,  the  two  nations  had  the  same  ideas,  the  deification  of 
natural  forces,  pantheism  ; but  the  forms  of  their  myths  differed 

* “ Dissertation  sur  la  Politique  des  Romains  dans  la  Religion.” 


88 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


essentially.  Thus,  the  god  Sterquilinius  (of  the  dunghill),  the  pro- 
ductive force  among  the  Romans,  corresponded  to  the  god  Eros 
(Cupid)  among  the  Greeks.  But  with  regard  to  civil  structures  the 
Roman  legislator  intervened  ; he  commanded,  he  knew  exactly  what 
Avas  wanted  ; if  he  had  recourse  to  the  stranger,  it  was  but  to  borrow 
from  him  a covering  for  his  monuments,  and  even  this  covering  he 
adapted  and  modified  according  to  his  fashion.  He  would  not  suffer 
his  artists  to  embarrass  him  with  their  principles.  He  did  not  untie, 
he  cut,  the  Gordian  knot.  He  treated  art  as  Claudius  Pulcher,  when 
about  to  begin  a naval  battle,  treated  the  superstitious  ideas  of  his 
soldiers:  the  sacred  birds,  when  consulted,  would  not  eat;  this  was 
a bad  augury.  “ Since  they  will  not  eat,”  said  he,  “ let  them 
drink  ” ; and  so  he  caused  them  to  be  thrown  into  the  sea.  If  to 
the  artist  of  strong  convictions  art  is  a religion,  a living,  ardent 
belief,  to  others  it  is  but  a troublesome  prejudice.  A corps  of  archi- 
tects, sculptors,  and  painters,  governed  by  their  own  convictions, 
must  be  a continual  embarrassment  in  a state  without  convictions 
in  regard  to  art.  Politicians,  legislators,  administrators,  as  the 
Romans  essentially  were,  they  could  not  endure  such  obstacles  in 
the  way  of  the  development  of  their  institutions.  Their  artists  were 
slaves  or  freedmen,  or,  at  most,  citizens  kept  in  a state  of  systematic 
obscurity.  They  would  make  a prefect  of  a flute-player  much  sooner 
than  of  an  architect  or  sculptor.  • It  was  indifferent  to  the  Romans 
what  order  or  cornice  or  moulding  the  architect  chose  to  apply  to 
his  building  ; but  the  moment  he  undertook  to  reason,  to  establish 
certain  principles  by  virtue  of  which  he  came  in  contact  with  the 
will  of  the  magistrate,  the  moment,  for  example,  he  refused  to  give 
three  stories  to  a building  whose  proportions  he  believed  better 
adapted  to  two,  whatever  authority  he  might  invoke,  whatever  good 
reasons  he  might  urge,  the  magistrate  would  at  once  direct  him  to 
obey,  and  not  to  amuse  himself  by  discussing  the  principles  of  his 
art  with  him,  a Roman,  who  admitted  no  other  reasons  or  authorities 
than  those  of  state.  The  ideas  of  the  Romans  concerning  art  may 
be  illustrated  by  the  well-known  story  of  Lucius  Muimnius,  the  con- 
queror of  the  Achæans,  who,  while  engaged  in  transporting  from 
Greece  to  Rome  the  rich  spoils  of  his  conquest,  stipulated  that  who- 
ever should  be  negligent  or  culpable  enough  to  injure  in  transpor- 
tation a certain  picture  by  Zeuxis,  must  supply  its  place  with 
another. 


ROMAN  TOLERATION. 


89 


We  have  no  exact  information  regarding  the  manner  in  which  the 
Roman  magistrates  treated  artists,  or  how  much  independence  was 
allowed  them  ; but  we  have  means  of  direct  inference  : we  are  famil- 
iar with  the  opinions  manifested  by  these  magistrates  concerning  cer- 
tain religious  sects,  which,  in  professing  inflexible  doctrines  in  the 
midst  of  Roman  society,  were  precisely  in  the  situation  of  artists 
with  strong  convictions.  No  government  was  more  tolerant  than 
that  of  Rome  ; it  permitted  all  religions,  provided  they  were  them- 
selves tolerant  ; it  proscribed  indiscriminately  only  the  Egyptian,  the 
Jewish,  and  the  Christian  religions,  because  these  were  regarded  as 
intolerant,  as  forming  exclusive  priestly  sects,  independent  of  civil 
authority,  distinguishing  between  the  spiritual  and  temporal,  and 
therefore  dangerous  to  the  state.  The  Romans  persecuted  the  wor- 
ship of  Bacchus,  for  examplfc,  not  as  a religious  rite  or  belief,  but  as 
an  offence  against  civil  order  ; as  in  modern  times  the  state  allows 
liberty  of  worship  to  all,  but  permits  no  one  to  exercise  this  liberty 
to  the  prejudice  of  law  and  the  public  peace.  At  Rome  the  priest 
and  the  augur  were  magistrates.  “ In  our  city,”  said  Cicero,  “ the 
kings  and  the  magistrates,  who  succeeded  the  kings,  have  always  had 
a double  function,  and  have  governed  the  state  under  the  auspices  of 
religion.”  * Now,  if  the  Roman  government  professed  such  doc- 
trines of  tolerance  and  intolerance  with  respect  to  religions,  there  is 
strong  reason  to  believe  that  it  had  similar  doctrines  concerning  art, 
which,  in  Roman  eyes,  was  of  much  less  consequence. 

This  is  no  place  to  discuss  whether  the  Romans  were  right  or 
wrong  in  this  matter,  whether  art  was  developed,  or  gradually  fell 
into  indifference  and  contempt  under  the  oppression  of  the  magis- 
trate ; Ave  seek  rather  to  show  how  the  profound  distinctions  between 
Greek  and  Roman  art  arose  from  natural  causes.  Our  task  is  not  to 
review  the  political  history  of  nations  ; but  to  indicate  up  to  what 
point  the  fine  arts,  and  architecture  in  particular,  reflect  the  man- 
ners and  institutions  of  the  people  among  whom  they  have  been 
developed. 

Now,  as  regards  religion,  the  Greeks  Avere  less  tolerant  than  the 
Romans  ; witness  the  death  of  Socrates,  the  persecution  of  Alcibiades 
for  having  outraged  the  rites  of  Mercury  at  Athens,  and  especially 
the  Peloponnesians,  who,  because  of  a religious  festival  they  had  to 


* “ De  Divinatione,  ” Lib.  I.  ch.  xl.  See  “ Dissertation  sur  la  Politique  des  Romains  dans  la 
Religion  ” ; Montesquieu. 


90 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


celebrate,  did  not  join  the  army  of  the  Greeks  till  the  day  after  the 
battle  of  Marathon.  Their  civil  institutions,  as  we  have  remarked, 
very  far  from  having  the  force  or  sagacity  of  those  of  the  Romans, 
were  turbulent  and  insecure,  yet  marvellously  adapted  to  the  growth 
of  art. 

It  would  be  sad  indeed  if  we  were  compelled  to  deduce  a strictly 
logical  conclusion  from  these  facts,  implying,  as  they  do,  that  the 
more  wisely,  firmly,  and  consistently  a people  is  governed,  the  less 
chance  there  is  of  art  living  a natural  life  and  leaving  perfect  works. 
We  hardly  think  this  argument  was  ever  used  in  the  presence  of 
Louis  XIV.,  who,  when  he  undertook  to  cover  France  with  Roman 
monuments,  simply  expressed  the  natural  sentiments  of  an  absolute 
monarch,  the  chief  of  a national  unity  ; for  Roman  architecture  was 
the  only  system  which  could  be  adapted  to  his  political  system,  and 
it  would  not  have  been  well  for  any  one  to  maintain  before  him  that 
if  society  would  have  arts,  artists  must  be  allowed  a certain  liberty. 
We  must  admit  that  in  all  that  concerns  humanity,  its  sentiments 
and  relations,  its  convictions  and  tastes,  conclusions  deduced  from 
an  absolute  logic  are  rarely  just.  Some  allowance  must  be  made 
for  the  infinite  variations  of  the  instinct  of  man,  the  contradictions 
of  which  he  is  composed,  his  traditions,  prejudices,  and  tempera- 
ment. Yet,  notwithstanding  these,  notwithstanding  revolutions  and 
conflicting  religions,  there  are  certain  great  natural  laws  which  must 
remain  immutable  through  all  time  and  among  all  nations.  Thus, 
in  the  development  of  the  arts,  the  two  opposing  principles  which, 
as  we  have  pointed  out,  had  their  origin  respectively  in  Greece  and 
in  Rome,  must  always  remain  true  ; and  we  shall  presently  see  how 
they  influenced  the  architecture  of  subsequent  ages.  Is  it  not  there- 
fore puerile,  in  the  face  of  these  great  facts,  and  with  the  example  of 
history  before  us,  to  occupy  our  time  in  disputing  the  pre-eminence 
of  this  or  that  school,  excluding  all  styles  or  forms  of  art  but  our 
own,  when  our  real  concern  is  not  with  styles  or  schools,  but  with 
the  everlasting  principles  of  truth,  and  how  to  apply  them  to  our 
own  practice  ? 

It  cannot  be  too  often  repeated  that  that  art  only  is  true  and  good 
which  is  in  harmony  with  the  manners,  institutions,  and  genius  of 
the  nation  wherein  it  exists  ; and  as  nations  differ  from  each  other 
in  these  respects,  the  forms  of  their  art  must  differ  in  a correspond- 
ing degree.  If,  in  the  course  of  time,  it  seems  to  go  back  to  the 


THE  GENIUS  OF  NATIONS. 


91 


point  from  which  it  started,  this  is  a phenomenon  analogous  to  that 
exhibited  when  national  characteristics  repeat  themselves.  If,  as  in 
the  present  day,  it  has  become  unsettled  and  wandering,  and  looks 
this  way  and  that  for  precedent  and  authority  as  a means  of  getting 
back  to  the  true  path  of  development,  let  us  not  cry  out,  “ This, 
which  I follow,  is  the  only  true  path  ” ; let  us  rather  remain  content 
with  illustrating  our  own  convictions  and  beliefs  as  well  as  we  can 
in  our  works;  let  us  aid,  and,  if  need  be,  modify  these  convictions  by 
diligent  study  and  by  serious  and  candid  analysis;  but  do  not  push 
blindly  to  the  right  or  the  left,  and  maintain  that  this  or  that  is  the 
only  way  back  to  the  right  road.  Study,  and  the  love  of  art,  not 
of  a form  of  art,  and  conscientious  search  for  true  principles,  are 
the  only  resources  of  intelligent  minds  when  art  is  lost  or  gone 
astray. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  genius  of  nations  in  relation  to  art.  Let 
us  avoid  vague  words,  which  may  lead  to  equivocations  ; let  us  un- 
derstand ourselves  at  every  step.  What  is  this  genius  of  nations  ? 
There  are  three  elements  which  constitute  national  character  : the 
element  which  we  call  national  genius,  the  manners  adopted  by  the 
nation,  and  the  institutions  which  it  imposes  upon  itself  or  which 
are  imposed  upon  it.  The  two  nations  of  antiquity  which  are  best 
known  to  us,  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  so  different  from  each  other, 
had  each  its  peculiar  genius  in  perfect  harmony  with  its  manners 
and  institutions.  But,  since  the  establishment  of  Christianity,  this 
harmony  has  not  existed.  The  frightful  disorders  occasioned  by  the 
barbarian  invasions  in  Europe  have  left  deep  traces,  perceptible 
even  in  our  own  days,  and  destined  to  remain  for  a long  time  to 
come.  Hence,  in  the  Middle  Ages  and  in  modern  times,  the  mon- 
strous contradictions  between  the  inherent  genius  of  populations, 
their  manners  and  customs,  and  their  dominant  institutions.  Hence 
the  frequent  scenes  of  violence  when  the  incongruous  institutions 
imposed  upon  a nation  stifle  the  inspirations  of  its  natural  genius. 
This  genius  is  simply  its  characteristic  way  of  expressing  its  intel- 
lectual and  physical  wants.  The  genius  of  the  Greeks  consisted  in 
their  tendency  to  demonstrate  their  ideas,  and  clothe  them  in  reason- 
able form  ; that  of  the  Romans,  in  submitting  their  ideas  to  public 
policy,  that  is,  government.  The  former  elevated  their  genius  above 
their  institutions  ; the  latter  placed  their  institutions  above  their 
genius.  The  truest  expression  of  Roman  genius  is  the  exclamation 


92 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  the  gladiators  in  the  amphitheatre,  pledged  to  fight  till  death, 
Moritari  te  salutant.  Athens  had  a Socrates  ; Rome  conld  not 
have  one.  Socrates  was  an  Athenian  at  Athens;  in  his  discussions 
he  undermined  the  public  creeds,  he  was  listened  to,  he  was  dan- 
gerous, therefore,  and  had  to  suffer  death.  A Roman  in  Rome, 
he  would  have  preached  without  an  audience  ; he  would  not  have 
been  considered  dangerous  there.  But  the  Gracchi,  who  plotted 
sedition  against  the  state,  were  considered  dangerous  ; and  so  more 
especially  was  Spurius  Moelius,  who,  for  distributing  corn  gratis 
among  the  people  in  time  of  famine,  was  killed  by  Servilius  Ahala, 
because  he  sought  by  these  means  a popularity  dangerous  to  the 
public  welfare.  Those  who  were  regarded  as  dangerous  at  Rome 
were  not  philosophers,  but  political  reformers,  opponents  of  civil 
law. 

Now,  so  complete  was  the  harmony  between  the  genius,  the 
manners  and  customs,  and  the  arts  of  these  two  nations  of  an- 
tiquity, so  perfectly  did  these  arts  reflect  the  respective  characters 
of  populations  thoroughly  homogeneous  in  their  institutions,  that 
nowhere  else  within  our  knowledge  have  they  enjoyed  such  direct 
and  simple  conditions  of  development  ; the  study  of  these  arts 
therefore  is  the  only  proper  elementary  study  for  those  who  would 
comprehend  architecture  and  how  it  is  used  as  a language,  a mon- 
umental record  of  the  genius  of  nations.  We  dare  to  maintain 
that  those  among  us  who  have  confined  their  attention  to  the  arts 
of  the  Middle  Ages  or  of  the  Renaissance  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
without  having  first  familiarized  themselves  with  those  of  pagan 
antiquity,  have  obtained  no  profit.  An  exclusive  application  to 
mediaeval  art  we  cannot  but  regard  as  a progress  towards  barbarism. 
Yet,  at  the  same  time,  we  regard  as  narrow  and  incomplete  the 
artistic  education  which  goes  no  further  than  pagan  antiquity,  and  as 
illogical  that  which  is  willing  to  neglect  the  intermediate  phases  in 
the  history  of  art,  and  to  leap  from  the  age  of  the  Cæsars  to  that 
of  Francis  I.,  Julius  II.,  Leo  X.,  and  Henry  II. 

If  it  is  right  to  consider  the  arts  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  as 
strictly  allied  to  their  institutions,  and  if  it  is  therefore  reasonable  and 
profitable,  in  this  point  of  view,  to  make  them  an  elementary  study, 
it  is  a mistake  to  look  for  any  such  intimate  alliance  between  me- 
diaeval arts  and  mediaeval  institutions  ; and  a primary  or  exclusive 
study  of  them  can  therefore  lead  only  to  prejudice.  In  the  Middle 


THE  STUDY  OF  THE  ANCIENT  STYLES. 


93 


Ages,  as  we  have  already  said,  there  was  an  endless  struggle  between 
the  genius  of  the  nations  and  the  institutions  which  governed  them. 
The  arts  are  one  of  the  most  vivid  expressions  of  this  struggle. 
Instead  of  being  serene  and  simple  like  those  of  Greece,  or  a plain 
exponent  of  confident  power  like  those  of  Rome,  they  were  complex, 
a conflict  of  opposing  forces,  thrusts  and  counter-thrusts,  the  whole 
requiring  careful  scrutiny  and  the  illumination  of  intelligent  analy- 
sis and  criticism.  We  are  far  from  saying  that  this  study  is  super- 
fluous. Our  present  social  state  is  complicated,  and  bristles  with 
controversies  ; it  is  a union  of  ancient  traditions,  and  of  the  in- 
tellectual and  physical  conditions  of  modern  times  ; everything 
relating  to  art  is  indecisive  and  disputed  ; national  genius  is  seeking 
for  a definite  expression  in  the  midst  of  doubts,  systems,  and  revolu- 
tions ; and  national  institutions  are  tending,  not  to  oppress,  but, 
after  so  many  experiences,  to  harmonize  with  that  genius.  In  the 
midst  of  these  things  the  study  of  mediaeval  art,  so  far  from  being 
superfluous,  contributes  to  develop  the  spirit,  to  give  it  that  plia- 
bility, freedom,  and  abundance  of  resource  so  necessary  to  place 
art  in  its  proper  position  as  an  expression  of  national  character. 

Our  task,  then,  is  before  us  ; if  it  is  long,  it  is  because  the  age 
in  which  we  live  inherits  the  past  and  cannot  be  separated  from  it. 
We  must  therefore  examine  successively  the  great  unity  of  princi- 
ples in  Roman  art  proper,  then  the  different  elements  which  de- 
stroyed that  unity  ; the  influence  of  Christianity  on  architecture  ; the 
new  order  established  in  the  midst  of  the  earliest  mediaeval  centu- 
ries, at  first  in  the  bosom  of  the  cloisters,  then,  in  the  twelfth 
century,  by  the  civil  nation  ; the  analogies  and  distinctions  existing 
between  this  new  order  and  the  genius  of  the  populations  ; its 
secret,  persistent  progress,  independent  of  the  arts,  in  the  midst  of 
political  systems  completely  opposed  to  such  progress  ; its  decline  in 
consequence  of  this  permanent  state  of  strife,  the  mediaeval  arts 
forming  a sort  of  freemasonry,  which,  like  every  isolated  organization, 
became  narrow  and  sterile.  • We  must  follow  the  great  Renaissance 
movement,  its  strange  contradictions,  its  efforts  to  reach  a result 
opposed  to  its  natural  tendencies  ; and,  finally,  we  must  treat  of  the 
means  by  which  we,  in  modern  times,  can  profit  by  the  labor  of  so 
many  generations  before  us,  and  apply  to  our  own  needs  the  princi- 
ples which  guided  them. 

In  closing  this  Discourse,  we  would  reply  to  all  those  who  are 


94 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


asking  for  a style  belonging  to  our  time  : “ When  our  time  shall  be 
something  else  besides  a composition  of  pagan,  Christian,  and  me- 
diaeval traditions  ; when  we  shall  have  effaced  all  traces  of  that 
long  and  bloody  struggle  of  the  Dark  Ages  between  the  genius  of 
the  races  and  the  elements  introduced  by  the  barbarian  conquests, 
between  clergy  and  royalty  contending  for  absolute  dominion,  be- 
tween the  people  and  the  feudal  system  ; when  we  shall  have  forgot- 
ten the  Reformation  with  its  enormous  accumulation  of  learning  and 
criticism  ; when  we  shall  no  longer  be  the  descendants  of  our  fore- 
fathers ; when  we  shall  have  put  an  end  to  the  scepticism  of  the  age, 
with  its  constant  undermining  of  traditions  and  systems  ; when  we 
shall  have  found  for  our  experiment  a place  on  the  soil  of  old  Europe 
which  is  not  covered  by  a ruin  ; when  we  shall  have  a Utopia  of 
homogeneous  institutions,  of  manners  and  tastes  having  nothing  in 
common  with  the  past,  of  sciences  which  we  have  not  inherited  ; 
when,  in  fine,  we  shall  have  obliterated  memory,  — then,  and  not 
till  then,  can  we  have  what  has  never  yet  been  seen,  a new  style. 
For  if  it  is  difficult  for  man  to  learn,  it  is  much  more  difficult  for 
him  to  forget.” 


« 


FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


ON  THE  ARCHITECTURE  OF  THE  ROMANS. 

IE  general  principles  of  Roman  architecture, 
briefly  referred  to  in  preceding  Discourses,  should 
be  carefully  analyzed  ; for,  however  simple  a style 
of  architecture  may  be,  it  is  composed  of  ele- 
ments too  varied,  it  results  from  requirements  too 
different  and  necessities  too  imperious,  to  be  ex- 
plained and  understood  without  a discriminating  study  of  the  infinite 
details  which  compose  its  apparent  forms. 

I have  said  that  among  the  Greeks  the  exterior  form  of  archi- 
tecture was  but  the  result  of  an  intelligent  construction,  of  the  care- 
ful observation  of  effects  produced  by  light  and  shade,  and  of  the 
sentiment  of  proportions.  Though  we  now  leave  the  immediate 
consideration  of  Greek  architecture,  we  shall  have  occasion  frequently 
to  return  to  it  in  the  course  of  these  studies,  since,  for  more  than 
twenty  centuries,  it  has  been  the  source  to  which,  by  many  different 
paths,  all  the  arts  of  design  have  repaired  for  inspiration  and  refresh- 
ment. Let  this  architecture,  known  to  us  unfortunately  by  a very 
restricted  number  of  buildings,  play  for  us  in  modern  times  the  part 
which  belongs  to  it  ; let  it  be  regarded  as  the  most  absolute  and 
most  perfect  type  of  the  principles  to  which  I shall  constantly  find  it 
necessary  to  call  the  attention  of  my  readers. 

We  have  seen  that,  among  the  Greeks,  construction  and  archi- 
tecture were  one  and  the  same  thing;  there  was  an  intimate  alliance 
between  form  and  structure  ; but,  with  the  Romans,  construction, 
and  the  form  with  which  it  was  clothed,  were  distinct  and  often 
independent  of  each  other. 


96 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


The  main  constructional  difference  between  the  two  systems  con- 
sists in  the  fact  that,  while  the  Greek  was  a composition  of  vertical 
and  horizontal  lines  and  surfaces,  the  Roman  added  to  these  two 
elementary  principles,  the  arch  and  the  vault,  the  curved  line  and  the 
concave  form  ; these  new  elements  were  employed  from  the  time  of 
the  republic,  they  soon  became  the  dominating  principle,  and  finally 
quite  supplanted  the  two  others. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  we  should  consider  what  the  Romany  bor- 
rowed from  the  Greeks,  and  how  their  peculiar  genius  modified  what 
was  thus  borrowed.  The  Romans  had  no  religious  architecture  of 
their  own  ; in  constructing  their  temples  they  took  the  general  plans 
and  orders  of  the  Greeks.  The  latter  had  three  orders,  each  with 
its  peculiar  proportions  and  decorations,  — the  Doric,  Ionic,  and 
Corinthian.  Of  these,  the  richest,  most  elegant,  and  probably  most 
recent  was  the  Corinthian.  But,  down  to  the  time  of  Pericles,  the 
Greek  architects  seemed  to  give  a marked  preference  to  the  Doric 
and  Ionic  ; in  their  great  temples  they  generally  adopted  the  Doric. 
The  Corinthian,  of  which  we  have  but  very  few  examples  before  the 
epoch  of  the  Roman  Empire,  appears,  among  the  Greeks,  to  have 
been  applied  only  to  monuments  of  small  dimensions,  as,  for  example, 
the  little  circular  votive  structure  at  Athens,  known  as  the  Choragic 
Monument  of  Lgsicrates.  But  the  Romans,  towards  the  end  of  the 
republic,  preferred  to  use  this  order  in  their  great  temples.  The 
future  masters  of  the  world  were  like  all  parvenues  : they  considered 
the  true  expression  of  art  to  reside  less  in  purity  of  form  than  in  os- 
tentation. The  Roman  had  little  feeling  for  such  refinements  of  detail 
as  we  have  discovered  in  the  Greek  Doric  capital  ; he  preferred,  to 
the  carefully  studied  sweetness  and  purity  of  the  Greek  lines,  abun- 
dance of  sculpture  ; he  was  rich,  and  he  desired  to  appear  so. 
The  Corinthian  order  became  soon  the  only  one  applied  by  the 
Romans  to  their  religious  edifices,  as  the  most  majestic,  because 
the  most  elaborate.  But  as  the  small  size  of  most  of  the  Greek 
temples  was  hardly  consistent  with  the  genius  of  the  Romans,  who, 
from  the  earliest  times  of  the  empire,  were  prone  to  cover  their  cities 
with  immense  edifices,  they  exaggerated  the  dimensions  of  the  Greek 
Corinthian  order;  and  this,  like  the  other  orders,  they  soon  imbued 
with  their  peculiar  spirit  as  constructors.  With  regard  to  the  col- 
umns, for  instance,  the  Greek  clearly  understood  that  by  their  func- 
tion they  indicated  monoliths  ; but,  as  his  mechanical  means  were 


THE  BATHS  OF  ANTONINUS  CARACALLA. 


PLAN. 


ROMAN  MODIFICATION  OF  GREEK  ORDERS. 


97 


insufficient  to  quarry,  transport,  and  raise  large  masses  of  stone,  lie 
supplied  the  deficiency  by  the  extreme  care  and  delicacy  with  which 
he  superimposed  the  series  of  stone  or  marble  drums  by  means  of 
which  he  formed  and  built  up  his  columns  ; and  often,  as  we  have 
already  observed,  when  his  material  was  too  coarse  to  produce  the 
effect  of  a monolith  by  this  process,  he  obtained  the  desired  result 
by  the  application  of  a fine  colored  stucco  over  the  whole.  But  the 
Romans  cut  their  columns  out  of  single  blocks  of  marble  or  granite. 
In  increasing  the  dimensions  of  the  Corinthian  column,  whose  shaft 
was  proportionally  more  slender  than  that  of  the  Doric  order,  good 
construction  constrained  them  to  avoid  building  it  up  in  courses 
according  to  the  Greek  manner.  The  Greek  Doric  column  had  no 
base,  while  the  Ionic  and  Corinthian  had  bases  composed  of  one  or 
more  circular  bands  ( tori ) resting  directly  on  the  pavement,  but  with- 
out the  interposition  of  square  plinths,  as  it  never  occurred  to  the 
Greeks  to  use  a feature  whose  salient  and  sharp  angles  would  inter- 
fere with  the  passage  of  their  porticos.  But  the  great  monolithic 
columns  of  Rome  suggested  the  use  of  a projecting  socket  to  give 
them  a firm  footing  ; hence  the  base,  of  one . or  more  tori  with  a 
square  plinth,  applied  indiscriminately,  by  the  Romans,  to  all  their 
orders.  The  Roman  considered  the  Greek  Doric  order  too  cold  and 
simple  for  an  atmosphere  less  transparent  than  Attica  or  Sicily  ; so  he 
cut  a moulding  on  the  abacus,  and  substituted  for  the  delicately  cut 
horizontal  lines  in  the  neck  of  the  Greek  capital  a ring  of  bold 
projection  {astragal)  encircling  the  shaft  under  the  capital.  The 
echinus  of  the  Greek  capital,  that  moulding  on  whose  refinement  of 
conception  and  execution  we  have  already  dwelt,  whose  outline  can 
be  defined  by  no  geometrical  process,  was  expressed  by  the  Roman 
with  a moulding  struck  with  a quarter-circle.  Ilis  architects  had  no 
time  to  waste  in  studying  purity  of  contour,  nor  his  stone-cutters,  to 
devote  to  such  unprofitable  refinements  ; it  was  much  more  con- 
venient and  easy  to  trace  a quarter  of  a circle  with  the  compass  than 
to  seek  and  adapt  an  indescribable  curve  which  was  not  even  a conic 
section.  We  have  seen  that  in  the  Greek  Doric  order  a triglyph  was 
always  placed  on  the  corner,  irrespective  of  any  fixed  relation  to  the 
axis  of  the  column  beneath,  and  that  the  adjacent  intercolumniations 
were  diminished.  But  the  Roman  desired  absolute  symmetry,  which 
was  his  law.  Making  his  intercolumniations  therefore  mathemati- 
cally equal,  without  regard  to  constructional  refinements,  the  triglyphs 


08 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


were  invariably  placed  over  the  axes  of  the  columns  and  inter- 
cohunniations,  thus  leaving  a half-metope  on  the  corner,  that  is  to 
say,  the  expression  of  a void  where  that  of  the  greatest  solidity  Avas 
required.  This  Avas  unreasonable,  but  the  laws  of  symmetry  Avere 
observed,  and  these  laws  the  Roman  Avas  apt  to  accept  for  artistic 
sentiment.  The  Greek  accepted  no  laavs  save  those  of  reason  ; but  as 
reason  delays,  discusses,  argues,  cannot  be  classified  or  subdued  to  a 
system,  it  did  not  here  commend  itself  to  the  Roman  legislator.  In 
proclaiming  symmetry  to  be  one  of  the  first  laAVS  of  art,  he  spared 
himself  great  embarrassments  and  uncertainties,  for  this  is  a laAV 
which  everybody  can  understand  and  apply.  But  it  is  important  to 
observe  that  the  Roman,  who  thus  applied  this  laAv  to  the  forms  of 
his  art,  that  is,  to  the  envelope  of  Ins  monuments,  would  boldly 
and  intelligently  free  himself  from  its  restraint  Avhen  it  interfered 
Avith  the  satisfaction  of  a material  need,  as  in  the  practical  arrange- 
ments and  details  of  his  Avorks  of  public  utility.  This  is  a salient 
point  in  the  character  of  Roman  architecture,  and  Ave  propose  to 
draAv  the  particular  attention  of  our  readers  to  it. 

In  speaking  thus  of  the  Greek  orders  as  imported  and  modified  by 
the  Romans,  not  to  gratify  a cultivated  taste,  but  to  serve  the  pur- 
poses of  a Avealthy  ostentation,  1 do  not  pretend  to  pass  these  orders 
and  their  proportions,  more  or  less  absolute,  in  revieAV,  nor  to  repeat 
here  Avhat  has  been  said  about  them  a hundred  times,  and  what  can 
be  found  in  every  library.  But  there  remains  to  us  a single  Avriter 
of  the  age  of  Augustus,  treating  of  architecture,  — Vitruvius.  As  he 
is  the  only  one,  he  cannot  fail  to  be  the  best  ; yet  he  is  not  neces- 
sarily  infallible  or  complete.  I am  not  familiar  enough  Avith  the 
language  of  the  Augustan  age  to  knoAv  xvhether  the  Avriters  of  the 
Renaissance  have  meddled  with  the  text  of  Vitruvius,  or  AAdiether 
they  have  been  able  to  complete  it,  Avhere  deficient,  in  the  same  spirit. 
As  an  architect,  if  not  as  a Latinist,  I am  tempted  to  believe  that 
they  have  interfered  Avith  it  in  certain  parts.  Thus,  the  theories 
regarding  the  proportions  of  the  orders,  as  laid  cloAvn  in  his  treatise, 
seem  to  me  to  be  flatly  contradicted  by  the  testimony  of  contempo- 
rary architecture.  Noav,  Vitruvius  sometimes  gives  to  the  Greek 
orders  fantastic  and  strange  origins,  Avhich  lead  us  to  infer  that,  for 
him  at'  least,  the  real  reasons  Avhich  guided  the  Greek  architects 
were  a sealed  book.  But  there  is  an  interesting  passage  in  his 
chapter  concerning  the  Greek  Doric  order,  Avhich  certainly  Avas  not 


VITRUVIUS,  ON  THE  GREEK  DORIC  ORDER, 


99 


arranged  by  the  Latinists  of  the  Renaissance,  for  they  did  not  know 
the  Greek  orders,  or  knew  them  too  incompletely  to  have  done  so. 
The  interest  of  this  passage  consists  in  its  indicating  that  a Roman 
architect  of  the  time  of  Augustus  imputed  to  certain  dispositions 
adopted  by  the  Greek,  and  of  which  we  have  already  spoken,  a 
reason  which  is  entirely  Roman,  and  not  at  all  Greek  ; and  that 
already  the  laws  of  symmetry  had  become  imperious. 

This  passage  runs  as  follows  : — * 

“ Many  ancient  architects  have  denied  that  the  Doric  order  is 
appropriate  for  temples,  because  it  presents  inconveniences  and  em- 
barrassments as  regards  symmetry.  Tarcheus  and  Pythæus  have 
denied  it,  as  well  as  Ilermogenes  ; for  the  latter,  having  at  his  dis- 
position a great  quantity  of  marbles  to  build  a temple  to  Bacchus 
in  the  Doric  order,  changed  his  project  and  made  it  Ionic.  This  is 
not  because  the  aspect  of  this  order  is  not  beautiful,  or  because  it  is 
wanting  in  majesty,  but  because  the  arrangement  of  the  triglvphs 
and  of  the  intervals  between  them  is  perplexing  in  execution.  Tor 
it  is  necessary  that  the  triglyphs  should  be  placed  over  the  centres  of 
the  columns,  and  that  the  metopes  between  them  should  be  as  wide 
as  they  are  high  : now,  the  corner  triglyph  cannot  be  over  the  centre 
of  the  corner  column,  but  must  be  outside  of  the  centre  ; and  the 
metopes  adjacent  to  the  corner  triglyph  cannot  therefore  be  square, 
but  oblong,  and  must  have  the  width  of  half  a triglyph  added  to 
their  own.  Those  who  would  obtain  on  the  whole  length  of  the 
frieze  metopes  of  equal  width  must  necessarily  diminish  the  last 
intercolumniation  at  the  angle  by  the  width  of  half  a triglyph.  But 
the  arrangement  is  equally  defective,  whether  we  diminish  the  last 
intercolumniation  or  enlarge  the  metope.  It  was  in  consideration 
of  this  difficulty  regarding  symmetry  that  the  ancients  avoided  the 
use  of  the  Doric  order  in  their  sacred  edifices.” 

Now,  I think  the  true  motive  of  the  Greeks  in  preferring,  in  cer- 
tain cases,  to  use  the  Ionic  instead  of  the  Doric  order,  was  not  that 
indicated  by  Vitruvius,  but  to  gratify  the  incessant  desire  of  that 
people  for  new  combinations  to  meet  new  conditions,  the  desire  to 
free  themselves  from  the  trammels  of  routine,  to  introduce  progress 
in  all  things  ; the  desire,  in  short,  for  something  better,  which  soon 
tempted  them  on  to  affectation  and  finally  to  decline.  He  seems 
to  me  to  deceive  himself  in  imputing  to  the  Greeks  such  bad  taste 

* “De  Ratione  Dorica,”  Lib.  IV.  cap.  iii. 


100 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


as  to  sacrifice  a general  disposition  to  an  unimportant  detail  by 
decreasing  the  corner  intercolumniations  in  order  to  obtain  equal 
metopes.  If  we  study  their  architecture,  we  shall  find  that  they 
acted  from  a very  different  class  of  motives.  13ut,  however  it  mny 
be,  this  passage  betrays  one  phase  of  the  spirit  which  actuated  the 
Roman  architect  : he  loved  the  universal  application  of  formulas  even 
to  matters  dependent  only  on  reason  and  artistic  feeling.  But  up  to 
the  time  of  Augustus,  and  long  after,  the  Romans  were  accustomed 
to  employ  Greek  architects  in  the  decoration  of  their  buildings,  and 
these  architects,  when  free,  were  apt  to  dispose  of  formulas  in  a very 
summary  manner,  whenever  such  formulas  were  opposed  to  reason 
and  instinct.  It  may  be  added  that  even  the  purely  Roman 
orders,  in  their  characteristic  distinctions  of  detail,  followed  rather 
the  spirit  than  the  letter  of  Vitruvius  ; and  further,  that  their  relative 
proportions  admitted  certain  modifications  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  materials  used  in  each  case,  according  to  the  manner  in 
which  they  were  used,  the  dimensions  of  the  buildings,  the  num- 
ber of  columns,  etc.  Still  there  was  in  these  orders  an  imperious 
law,  that  of  symmetry,  the  only  aesthetic  law  with  which  the  tempera- 
ment of  that  legislative  people  could  sympathize. 

But  the  Roman  exacted  other  concessions  from  Greek  art.  We 
have  seen  how  delicate  and  essentially  artistic  the  Greeks  were,  as 
exemplified  in  the  fluting  and  capitals  of  their  Doric  order,  and  more 
especially  in  the  exquisite  refinement  with  which  they  varied  the 
expression  of  their  orders,  individualizing  each  example,  without  de- 
stroying its  distinctive  characteristics  as  Doric  or  Ionic,  or  falling  into 
the  abuses  of  caprice.  We  have  observed  that  their  artists  appealed 
to  a sympathizing  and  appreciative  public.  But  the  Roman,  on  the 
contrary,  insisted  on  positive  and  formal  classifications  in  order  that 
he  might  be  understood.  As  he  had  to  deal  with  vulgar  minds,  it 
was  essential  that  he  should  be  grand,  colossal,  that  he  should  de- 
mand rather  than  appeal  ; he  required  no  delicate  art,  no  nervous 
grace  of  the  Greek,  for  a public  made  up  of  such  incongruous  ma- 
terial, but  richness,  visible  grandeur  ; and,  under  this  brutal  im- 
pulse, the  Greek,  become  his  workman,  soon  lost  the  delicate  tact 
of  his  nation  in  obedience  to  the  sublime  vanity  of  his  master,  let 
for  a long  time  in  such  hands,  the  clothing  of  the  Roman  monu- 
ment was  distinguished  for  admirable  execution.  If  the  Greek  was 
obliged  to  load  it  with  ornaments,  these  long  preserved  somewhat 


ROMAN  CONSTRUCTION. 


101 


of  their  native  grace  and  sobriety.  It  was  only  by  slow  degrees 
that  profusion  quite  overwhelmed  all  purity  of  execution. 

We  shall  presently  take  occasion  to  recur  to  this  subject  of  ar- 
chitectural decoration,  the  frankness  and  beauty  of  its  execution,  at 
first  among  the  Greeks,  and  then  in  the  last  days  of  the  Roman 
republic  and  the  first  of  the  empire.  Our  immediate  business  is 
to  consider  that  part  of  architecture  which  truly  belongs  to  the 
Romans,  — - the  structure  of  their  monuments. 

The  Romans  at  a very  early  period  adopted  two  distinct  methods 
of  construction,  which  they  were  accustomed  to  combine  in  their 
buildings  : the  construction  with  squared  and  fitted  stones,  and  that 
with  rubble  or  brick.  The  former  was  employed  by  them  only  as 
a thick  facing  composed  of  large  blocks  laid  together  without  mortar, 
united  by  gudgeons  and  cramps  of  metal  or  even  of  wood,  behind 
which  they  threw  masses  of  small  stones  or  gravel  imbedded  in  an 
excellent  mortar.  The  vaults  were  made  of  principal  arches  or 
ribs  of  cut  stones  or  of  bricks,  with  a filling  in  of  concrete. 
This  construction  imposed  on  the  Roman  architects  plans  peculiarly 
their  own,  composed  of  massive  piers  as  points  of  support  for  the 
springing  of  their  vaults.  In  these  constructions  there  were  no  walls, 
properly  speaking,  but  isolated  points  of  resistance,  connected  to- 
gether by  certain  walls  or  screens,  comparatively  light,  as  they  had 
no  weight  to  support.  The  arrangements  of  plans,  necessarily  re- 
sulting from  this  principle,  were  admirably  adapted  to  vast  edifices* 
containing  numerous  apartments  for  various  uses,  as,  for  instance, 
halls  surrounded  by  an  agglomeration  of  smaller  rooms  or  chambers 
of  different  form,  size,  and  height,  with  passages,  staircases,  etc. 

Let  us  suppose  a programme  of  this  character  given  to  a Roman 
architect  to  execute  : He  first  constructs  four  principal  piers,  disposed 
on  the  corners  of  a square  (Rig.  13)  ; these  four  piers  he  unites  by 
arches  at  the  height  he  deems  appropriate  for  the  smaller  chambers  ; 
then,  continuing  to  elevate  his  corner  piers,  he  builds  from  them  a 
vault  covering  the  hall,  and  composed  of  two  arches  or  round  vaults 
intersecting  each  other  at  right  angles  ; he  proceeds  to  enclose  the 
whole  structure  by  erecting  between  the  outer  faces  of  the  piers  thin 
walls  or  screens,  and,  if  necessary,  he  separates  the  four  accessory 
apartments  from  the  main  hall  under  the  vault,  by  constructing 
between  the  inner  angles  of  the  piers  interior  walls  as  partitions. 

L nder  the  main  intersecting  vault,  and  over  the  round  vaults  of  the 


102 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


chambers,  lie  opens  windows  to  admit  light  into  the  principal  room. 
Finally,  he  covers  the  inferior  vanlts  with  lean-to  roofs,  and  the  main 
vault  with  a low  roof,  composed  of  four  gables  with  their  intersecting 
ridges,  thus  obtaining,  in  the  whole,  a simple,  easily  understood,  and 
unalterable  construction. 


Fig.  13. 


However  careless  the  Roman  is  of  the  value  of  workmanship,  he 
possesses  a mind  too  well  disciplined,  an  economy  too  practical,  in 
short,  he  is  too  good  an  administrator,  to  erect  useless  constructions. 
His  calculations  soon  demonstrate  to  him  that  his  piers  would  sup- 
port his  principal  and  inferior  vaults  quite  as  well  with  less  bulk;  so 
he  hollows  out  under  the  latter  round-arched  niches  covered  by  half- 
domes, thus  increasing  the  available  area  of  his  subordinate  apart- 
ments, in  the  manner  indicated  in  Fig.  13.  A construction  of  this 
character,  which,  properly  speaking,  is  nothing  more  than  a building 


ROMAN  DECORATION. 


103 


of  rubble  with  facings  of  brick,  hardly  suggests,  either  on  the  ex- 
terior or  iu  the  interior,  any  system  of  constructional  decoration. 
But  as  he  is  rich,  magnificent,  and  ostentatious,  he  is  not  content 
with  the  rigorous  fulfilment  of  his  requirements  ; he  must  ornament 
his  work  ; so  he  calls  bis  artists,  and  lias  monolithic  columns  cut  and 
enormous  blocks  to  build  porticos  with,  and  other  extraneous  after- 
thoughts. The  construction  of  the  building  is  his  own  ; the  extra- 
neous decoration  he  borrows  from  the  Greek. 

Now,  the  refinements  of  the  Greek  Doric  order,  its  mouldings  de- 
signed to  be  bathed,  as  it  were,  in  transparent  and  unobstructed 
light,  its  gables  ( pediments ) made  low-browed  that  they  might  not 
seem  to  crush  the  columns  beneath,  all  the  delicacies  of  an  art  which 
delighted  in  purifying  the  least  details,  would  lie  lost,  would  be 
almost  ridiculous,  if,  instead  of  belonging  to  an  isolated  temple, 
whose  outlines  were  detached  against  a clear  sky,  they  were  placed 
against  these  masses  of  Roman  brick.  It  is  not  improbable  that  the 
Romans  were  conscious  of  this  incongruity;  the  Greeks  in  their 
employ  certainly  were,  for  they  adopted  a richer  and  coarser  order  to 
fulfil  these  new  conditions.  They  used  the  Ionic,  or,  in  preference 
to  this,  the  Corinthian,  whose  bolder  and  more  numerous  mouldings, 
elaboration  of  outline,  striking  effects,  and  lively  contrasts  preserved 
a certain  elegance  even  with  no  better  background  than  the  compact 
mass  of  the  structure.  In  the  interior,  the  Roman  covered  his  vaults 
with  a fine  stucco,  divided  into  many  compartments  in  order  to  in- 
crease the  apparent  size  ; this  stucco  was  moulded  with  a flat  orna- 
mentation, as  the  material  did  not  admit  a bolder  treatment,  and  the 
effect  heightened  by  the  application  of  color.  The  lower  parts  of  his 
interior  walls  he  lined  with  slabs  of  colored  marble,  separated  by 
mouldings  of  slight  projection  in  order  to  obtain  that  aspect  of  unity 
appropriate  to  rooms  receiving  a diffuse  light.  While  he  desired  the 
outer  covering  of  his  construction  to  be  distinguished  by  bold  projec- 
tions throwing  broad  shadows,  as  better  suited  to  the  grandeur  of  his 
conceptions,  the  interior  linings  he  kept  rich,  but  quiet  and  uniform. 
The  Roman  therefore  had  his  peculiar  taste,  which,  however  faulty, 
deserves  especial  attention  and  study  from  us,  whose  laws,  insti- 
tutions, political  economy,  and  language  as  closely  resemble  those 
of  Rome,  as  our  character,  sentiments,  and  turn  of  mind  are  essen- 
tially and  peculiarly  Greek.  We  in  France  possess  some  of  the  good 
qualities,  and  all  the  faults,  of  the  Athenians  ; and  even  their  lan- 


104 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


guage,  though  unfortunately  too  unfamiliar  to  us,  has  had  its  in- 
fluence on  our  own.  If  our  police  cannot  issue  a writ  of  arrest 
without  the  exclusive  use  of  Roman  words,  we  cannot  express  new 
ideas,  or  discuss,  or  enter  into  the  realm  of  speculation,  philosophy, 
or  science,  without  calling  to  our  aid  words  derived  from  the  Greek. 

If  the  taste  of  the  Greek  belonged  to  his  function  as  poet  and 
artist,  that  of  the  Roman  was  in  harmony  with  his  as  ruler  and  legis- 
lator ; it  was  based  on  a profound  knowledge  of  men  and  their  distin- 
guishing characteristics  ; he  understood  the  division  of  labor,  he  knew 
how  to  discipline  the  human  faculties,  and  to  make  them  concur  to 
an  end  which  he  himself,  the  conscious  governor  and  head,  had 
dictated,  without  ever  deigning  to  interfere  with  the  subordinate 
details.  His  taste  consisted  in  his  not  for  an  instant  abandoning 
the  place  he  had  made  and  so  long  retained  for  himself  in  the  world 
as  master,  though  surrounded  by  visible  signs  of  decomposition,  mak- 
ing the  law  of  state  supreme,  but  interfering  with  no  religions  and 
discussing  no  dogmas.  But  when  the  emperors  became  Christian, 
and  undertook  to  sustain  theses  in  their  councils,  the  empire  was 
lost,  and  the  great  Roman  body  was  dislocated.  Constantine,  in 
whose  reign  began  the  last  period  of  the  decline  of  the  Roman  em- 
pire, in  the  edict,  which,  in  313,  when  not  yet  a Christian,  he  issued 
at  Milan,  conjointly  with  his  brother-in-law  Lucinius,  said  : “ We 
give  to  all  the  world  such  religious  liberty  as  each  person  may  be 
inclined  to  enjoy,  to  the  end  that  the  blessing  of  Heaven  may  rest 
upon  us  and  upon  our  subjects  ; we  declare  that  we  give  not  to  the 
Christians  alone,  but  to  all,  this  liberty,  in  order  to  maintain  the 
tranquillity  of  our  reign.”  This  was  exactly  the  course  pursued  by 
the  Romans  in  their  architecture.  They  imposed  formulas  given 
by  necessity,  and  an  architectural  system  conformed  to  their  social 
state  ; but  they  did  not  dispute  that  which  was  peculiarly  the  art- 
ist’s, his  professional  liberty  in  the  details  intrusted  to  his  care. 

Exaggeration  is . the  great  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of  true 
grandeur.  This  error  the  Romans  scrupulously  avoided.  They 
were  grand,  but  simply  so,  without  effort  or  refinement.  And 
thus,  between  the  two  extremes  of  daring  and  of  moderation,  of 
ambition  and  of  common-sense,  their  taste  found  characteristic  ex- 
pression. Louis  XIV.,  who  had  somewhat  of  Roman  grandeur  in 
him,  endeavored  to  approach  this  model,  but  with  what  a different 
result  ! How  miserable  and  false,  for  instance,  appear  to-day  the 


THE  VAULTS  AND  PLANS  OP  THE  ROMANS. 


105 


discussions  oil  art,  which  arose  on  the  very  steps  of  the  throne,  when 
the  question  was  whether  the  completion  of  the  Louvre  should  he 
confided  to  the  Italian  Bernini  or  the  French  Perrault  ! The  com- 
mon-sense of  the  Romans  about  art,  therefore,  is  a subject  we  may 
well  meditate. 

We  shall  see  how  this  example  was  followed  or  misunderstood  in 
the  course  of  historic  time,  and  how  rapidly  architecture  was  devel- 
oped in  the  one  case,  and  how  promptly  it  declined  in  the  other. 

To  return  to  the  question  of  construction,  we  have  seen  that  the 
Greek  method,  limited  as  it  was  to  the  post  and  lintel,  or  cross-beam, 
could  furnish  but  little  variety  in  the  conception  of  plans.  This 
method,  moreover,  whether  constructions  of  carpentry  or  lintels  and 
slabs  of  stone  were  used  to  cover  interiors,  could  not  be  applied  to 
rooms  of  any  great  size;  for,  if  the  spaces  which  could  be  covered 
by  their  horizontal  wooden  construction  were  necessarily  limited, 
those  roofed  with  stone  were  still  more  so.  Edifices  destined  there- 
fore by  the  Greeks  to  contain  large  assemblies  were  necessarily  open 
to  the  sky.  This  arrangement  their  climate  allowed.  We  cannot 
but  be  struck  with  the  air  of  grandeur  in  these  primitive  architec- 
tural conceptions  ; but  they  did  not  suit  the  conditions  of  the 
Romans,  whose  dominion,  under  the  emperors,  extended  from  Italy 
to  the  colder  regions  of  Germany,  Gaul,  and  Britain.  The  system 
of  construction  among  them,  of  which  we  have  given  an  example 
(Fig.  13),  permitted  them  readily  and  durably  to  enclose  and  cover 
vast  spaces,  and  the  simple  means  needed  to  effect  this  object  — 
labor,  rubble-stone,  clay  for  brick,  and  lime  for  mortar  — were 
everywhere  available.  In  fact,  quarried  and  cut  stones  were  not 
necessary  to  the  Roman  method  of  building. 

The  absolute  and  practical  requirements,  arising  from  the  social 
and  political  state  of  the  Romans,  imposed  on  their  architects  from 
the  beginning  especial  attention  to  the  composition  of  plans.  In 
fact,  if  we  cast  our  eyes  on  the  edifices  peculiarly  Roman,  such  as 
baths,  palaces,  villas,  and  great,  establishments  of  public  utility,  we 
are  at  once  impressed  by  their  novelty  and  variety  in  this  respect, 
especially  as  compared  with  those  of  Greece.  These  buildings 
present  an  agglomeration  of  rooms,  as  we  have  seen,  each  having 
appropriate  dimensions  ; the  piers,  supporting  the  vaulted  roof, 
have  an  importance  relative  to  these  dimensions,  and  the  various 
apartments  mutually  support  each  other,  the  smaller  bearing  up  the 


106 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


greater,  adroitly  taking  advantage  of  the  voids  left  between  the  great 
points  of  support.  In  these  vast  establishments  it  is  well  to  observe 
how  economically  the  space  is  apportioned,  how  carefully  all  dis- 
positions which  could  affect  the  solidity  of  the  construction  are 
avoided,  and  how  appropriate  to  its  destination  are  the  form,  aspect, 
and  disposition  of  the  plan  of  each  room.  If  from  the  plan  we  pro- 
ceed to  examine  the  sections  and  elevations,  we  shall  see  how  care- 
fully the  heights  of  these  rooms  are  adjusted  to  their  superficial  area, 
and  how  the  whole  forms  but  a single  edifice,  like  a hive  made  up 
of  cells  differing  in  size.  It  is  in  these  respects  that  the  Roman 
genius  is  original  and  triumphant,  and  it  is  from  these,  and  not  from 
what  the  Romans  borrowed  from  the  Greeks  when  they  built  temples 
to  the  gods,  that  we  can  obtain  serious,  profitable,  and  eminently 
copious  instruction. 

As  we  do  not  undertake  to  treat  of  archaeology,  but  of  architec- 
ture, it  is  not  within  our  present  scope  to  examine  how  the  Romans 
modified  more  or  less  successfully  the  plans  and  dispositions  of  Greek 
temples  when  they  thought  it  proper  to  adopt  them.  This  study  can 
have  no  practical  aim,  however  interesting  it  may  be.  In  observing 
Roman  architecture,  let  us  devote  ourselves  to  that  which  is  pecu- 
liarly Roman  ; we  shall  find  the  field  vast  enough.  During  the 
republic  the  Romans  built  a few  small  monuments,  like  the  temple 
of  Vesta  at  Tivoli,  on  a circular  plan  covered  by  hemispherical 
vaults  in  concrete.  Rut  from  the  beginning  of  the  empire  this 
kind  of  construction  was  developed  in  a manner  until  then  unknown. 
Agrippa,  in  the  729th  year  of  the  city,  and  24  years  before  the  vul- 
gar era,  built  the  first  of  the  magnificent  baths  at  Rome,  in  the  ninth 
district.  It  is  doubtful  whether  at  the  same  time  he  built  that  vast 
circular  hall,  known  under  the  name  of  the  Pantheon,  which  was 
near  these  baths,  without  being  in  direct  communication  with  them, 
or  whether  he  found  it  already  built  and  annexed  his  baths  to  it. 
Dion  affirms  that  Agrippa  finished  the  Pantheon  ; but  this  finishing 
evidently  refers  to  the  portico  elevated  as  an  after-thought  before  the 
gate  of  the  rotunda,  as  is  stated  in  the  inscription  which  can  still 
be  read  on  its  frieze.  But  whether  he  built  it  or  not,  or  whether  he 
simply  decorated  the  interior  with  a splendid  order  of  marble,  and 
the  exterior  with  a portico  of  gray  granite  or  white  marble,  little 
concerns  us  at  present  ; but  what  belongs  to  our  immediate  subject 
is  a fact  concerning  the  Pantheon  about  which  there  can  be  no 


THE  PANTHEON. 


107 


question,  and  this  is,  that  its  construction  and  its  decoration  form 
two  distinct  parts.  We  are  told  by  Pliny  that  this  temple,  as  en- 
riched by  Agrippa,  was  dedicated  to  Jupiter  the  Avenger.  The 
interior  diameter  of  this  hall  is  142  feet  3 inches,  and  the  circular 
wall  which  carries  the  vault  is  17  feet  8 inches  thick,  or  about  one 
seventh  of  the  interior  diameter.  From  the  pavement  to  the  summit 
of  the  vault  the  distance  is  145  feet  G inches,  nearly  the  same  as  the 
diameter.  The  circular  wall  is  not  plain,  for,  besides  the  entrance 
gate,  it  has  four  square  recesses  and  three  great  semicircular  niches. 
In  the  spaces  between  these  are  disposed  near  the  pavement  eight 
smaller  semicircular  niches,  and,  at  the  height  of  the  springing  of  the 
vault,  are  sixteen  apertures,  which  would  pierce  to  the  outer  air  were 
they  not  closed  by  a wall  about  four  feet  thick.  No  construction  could 
be  better  as  regards  duration  and  solidity.  It  is  entirely  faced  with 
large  bricks,  filled  behind  with  rubble,  according  to  the  Roman 
method,  with  occasional  binding  courses  of  marble.  The  springing 
of  the  vault  is  about  73  feet  9 inches  from  the  pavement,  or  about 
half  the  extreme  height  within.  These  dimensions  are  given  here, 
because  they  show  that  the  Romans  had  certain  formulas  applicable 
to  the  cubic  contents  of  such  structures,  that  they  established  certain 
exact  relations  between  the  heights  and  widths  of  such  cubic  con- 
tents, and  that  already  they  made  the  exterior  appearance  of  their 
structures  subordinate  to  the  dispositions  in  the  interiors.  The 
hemispherical  vault,  which  springs  from  the  hollow  tambour  ot  the 
Pantheon,  and  covers  the  void  beneath,  is,  as  we  have  intimated, 
constructed  of  bricks  and  rubble,  the  former  being  disposed  as  ribs 
built  in  the  thickness  of  the  vault,  which  is  lightened  between  them 
by  five  horizontal  rows  of  caissons  or  deep  panels  sunk  in  the  inte- 
rior concavity.  The  circular  upright  wall  is  composed  of  discharging 
arches,  distributing  all  the  weight  on  sixteen  piers,  the  voids  be- 
tween which  are  occupied  by  the  square  recesses  and  round  niches 
to  which  we  have  already  alluded.  Thus,  we  see,  the  whole  is  a 
system  of  construction  which  imposed  laws  on  the  architecture  be- 
fore the  architect  dreamed  of  decorating  his  monument. 

A,  in  Plate  III.,  exhibits  the  plan  of  this  rotunda  of  Agrippa 
without  its  interior  casings  and  marble  columns,  which  are  indicated 
in  plan  B.  It  is  easy  to  see,  on  comparing  these,  that  the  marble 
decoration  is  quite  distinct  from  the  structure,  that  it  is  composed 
of  a mere  veneering  or  of  open-work  made  by  columns,  which  have 


108 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


nothing  to  do  with  the  solidity  of  the  edifice  ; the  grandeur  of  the 
composition  is  quite  independent  of  the  decoration,  which  might  be 
disposed  otherwise  without  injuring  the  effect.  The  portico  is  an 
after-thought,  a monument  on  the  front  of  another  monument.  Its 
monostyle  columns,  and  the  entablature  they  support,  have  no  affinity 
whatever  with  the  concave  surfaces,  and  their  skilful  system  of  mu- 
tual abutment,  which  are  adopted  in  the  rotunda.  The  interior 
structure  of  this  monument  is  a beautiful  page  to  till  ; but  give  the 
task  to  ten  architects,  and  you  will  have  as  many  different  systems  of 
decoration  ; and  I must  admit  I am  not  of  those  who  admire  without 
reserve  the  one  adopted.  Every  one  can  recognize  that  there  is  no 
intimate  and  essential  alliance  here  between  the  construction  and 
decoration,  as  in  every  Greek  edifice.  In  examining  the  construc- 
tion of  this  immense  rotunda  (Plate  IV.),  we  see  with  what  care  the 
architect  avoided  useless  masses  of  material;  how  even  the  voids 
contribute  to  the  solidity  of  the  circular  wall,  by  distributing  the 
weights  on  certain  chosen  points  of  support,  and  by  multiplying 
these  resisting  surfaces.  At  the  height  of  the  springing  of  the  vault 
(plan  on  the  level  G II),  the  walls  are  hollowed  out  in  a series  of 
chambers,  vaulted  alternately  with  a full-centred  arch  and  a quarter- 
dome,  the  buttresses,  which  cut  across  these  at  frequent  intervals, 
firmly  maintaining  the  grand  hemispherical  cope.  A more  massive 
construction  would  not  only  present  less  energy  of  resistance  to  the 
accumulated  thrusts,  but  would  be  heavier,  and  would  require  a 
much  more  considerable  quantity  of  materials. 

What  I have  said  of  the  architecture  of  the  Greeks  and  of  that  of 
the  Romans,  the  one  never  separating  the  structure  from  the  visible 
appearance,  from  the  form,  the  art,  in  a word,  and  the  other  requir- 
ing us  to  distinguish  the  work  of  the  constructor  from  its  decorative 
envelope,  already  points  out  the  manner  in  which  we  should  study 
them  and  apply  them  to  our  own  needs.  It  does  not  follow,  from 
the  strong  contrasts  between  these  two  principles,  that  we  should  ex- 
clusively admire  the  one  and  despise  the  other,  and  still  less  are  wTe 
justified  in  according  to  either  unqualified  and  vulgar  praise  or 
blame.  Our  duty  is  to  analyze  them  both,  and  to  take  all  that  is 
true,  logical,  profoundly  reasoned,  delicately  felt  and  expressed  in 
the  one,  and,  in  the  other,  all  that  is  grand,  wise,  applicable  to  our 
modern  civilization,  and  systematized  by  the  necessity  of  institutions 
and  manners  similar  to  our  own. 


GREEK  AND  ROMAN  WORK  IN  THE  PANTHEON.  109 


I have  endeavored  briefly  to  draw  your  attention  to  that  which 
is  truly  Roman  in  the  rotunda  of  Agrippa  ; but  the  general  effect 
produced  by  this  immense  room  on  the  mind  of  the  spectator  cannot 
be  expressed  in  a drawing  or  a technical  description.  In  my  own 
opinion,  the  present  interior  decoration,  which  has  been  several  times 
modified,  detracts  from,  rather  than  adds  to,  the  grandeur  of  the  effect 
produced  by  the  purely  Roman  conception.  Multiplicity  of  details, 
and  the  emphasis  with  which  they  are  pressed  upon  the  attention, 
diminish  the  impression  of  grandeur  in  a structure,  especially  when 
these  details  have  no  relation  to  its  purpose.  They  tend  to  dis- 
tract the  mind  from  the  principal  object.  In  the  Greek  temples  it 
is  the  structure,  the  general  design,  and  not  the  details,  which  first 
occupy  the  mind,  and  the  result  is  that,  though  generally  small, 
these  temples  leave  upon  the  mind  an  impression  of  grandeur  which 
memory  only  serves  to  deepen.  It  is  very  difficult  to  combine  op- 
posite principles,  and  prevent  them,  when  thus  united,  from  mutu- 
ally destroying  each  other.  Apart  from  the  value  of  its  details  and 
their  perfect  execution,  I could  wish  that  the  Romans  had  preserved 
in  the  rotunda  of  the  Baths  of  Agrippa  its  real  appearance,  and 
that  this  room  had  received  a decoration  which  should  emphasize 
instead  of  conceal  its  lovely  and  simple  structure.  I cannot  but 
think  that  the  lower  order  which  cuts  the  great  height  of  the  con- 
structional niches  into  two  parts,  and  the  attic,  which  masks  their 
arches  ; this  division  into  two  zones  of  a homogeneous  construction 
which  rises  from  the  pavement  tp  the  springing  of  the  cupola  dimin- 
ishes rather  than  augments  the  sublimity  of  this  beautiful  composition. 
I can  plainly  see  in  those  decorations  the  hand  of  the  artist,  the 
workman  of  true  talent,  the  exotic  Greek  ; but  he  is  not  in  his  place, 
his  work  embarrasses  me,  he  does  not  comprehend  the  majestic  spirit 
of  the  Roman,  nor  can  I comprehend  it  through  his  envelope  without 
a labor  of  analysis. 

The  incongruity  between  the  Greek  and  Roman  work  in  the  Pan- 
theon is  further  illustrated  by  the  difference  in  the  scale  of  each. 
The  caissons,  or  large  panels  sunk  deep  in  the  under  surface  of  the 
dome,  are  readily  recognized  as  a true  ornamental  expression  of  its 
Roman  structure  ; but  these,  by  their  superior  importance  and  bold- 
ness, seem  to  crush  the  delicate  cornices,  and  the  divisions  of  marble 
below,  which  form  an  immense  wainscoting,  as  it  were,  covering  the 
supporting  wall.  The  ornaments  of  metal,  with  which  these  caissons 


no 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


were  probably  decorated,  rather  increased  than  diminished  their  im- 
portance, by  calling  attention  to  them  and  defining  them  more  vigor- 
ously against  the  concavity  of  the  hemisphere.  Under  this  decora- 
tion, so  masculine,  so  bold,  and  on  so  grand  a scale,  what  becomes 
of  these  effeminate  marble  panels  and  flat  pilasters,  or  of  the  capitals 
of  the  columns,  whose  height  was  hardly  half  the  diameter  of  the 
great  bronze  rosettes  with  which  these  caissons  were  adorned  ? 

I can  conceive  a room,  all  of  whose  parts  are  on  a grand  scale, 
with  a wainscoting  of  marble  or  wood,  which,  by  its  height  and  fine 
details,  should  recall  at  the  base  of  the  structure  the  dimensions  of  a 
man  ; but  I cannot  understand  the  meaning  of  a wainscoting  seventy- 
five  feet  high.  Agrippa,  in  clothing  his  rotunda,  as  an  after-thought 
probably,  with  decorations  of  marble  forming  a splendid  order  under 
his  vault,  gave  evidence  rather  of  his  magnificence  than  his  taste  ; 
and  this  is  the  common  sin  of  the  Roman  : he  is  rich  and  magnifi- 
cent, he  would  patronize  the  arts,  for  he  has  an  idea  of  their  power  ; 
but  he  is  wanting  in  the  sure  and  delicate  taste  of  the  Greeks  when 
they  were  free  to  follow  their  own  inspirations.  You  remember  the 
sarcasm  of  the  Greek  sculptor  addressed  to  his  brother  in  the  art  : 
“ Not  being  able  to  make  thy  Venus  beautiful,  thou  hast  made  her 
rich.”  We  are  deeply  impressed  bv  a Roman  ruin,  because,  in  its 
melancholy  nakedness,  nothing  is  left  of  it  but  that  which  is  essen- 
tially Roman  in  its  structure.  The  hall  in  the  Baths  of  Caracalla, 
whose  vaults  are  ruined  and  whose  piers  are  stripped,  but  which 
unveils  to  us  the  gigantic  mechanism  of  the  Roman  work,  would 
produce  a less  striking  effect  upon  the  mind  of  the  beholder  were 
it  clothed  in  its  array  of  useless  columns,  its  marble  veneering,  and 
its  incongruous  decorations.  That  which  produces  the  liveliest  im- 
pression in  the  Pantheon  is  the  immense  vault  which  derives  all  its 
decoration  from  its  own  structure,  and  that  single  aperture,  twenty- 
five  feet  in  diameter,  pierced  at  its  summit,  open  to  the  zenith,  and 
shedding  upon  the  porphyry  and  granite  pavement  a great  circle  of 
light.  So  great  is  the  elevation  of  this  eye  of  the  dome,  that  its 
immense  opening  has  no  sensible  effect  on  the  temperature  of  the 
interior.  The  most  violent  storms  scarcely  breathe  upon  the  head 
of  him  who  stands  beneath  it,  and  the  rain  falls  vertically  and  slowly 
through  the  immense  void  in  a cylinder  of  drops,  and  marks  the 
pavement  with  a humid  circle. 

It  was  in  such  conceptions,  expressing  his  peculiar  genius,  and 


THE  COLUMN  OF  TRAJAN. 


Ill 


demanding  no  foreign  artist  to  execute  them,  that  the  Roman  was 
truly  grand.  But  when  lie  would  build  a temple  like  the  Greeks, 
and  accepted  richness  of  detail  and  material  for  a sign  of  grandeur, 
he  fell  far  below  the  serene  beauty  and  purity  of  his  model  ; and  the 
fastidious  Greek,  who  applied  his  art  to  the  Roman  monument,  be- 
littled it,  and,  bewildered  in  a strange  atmosphere,  forgot  his  own 
principles  to  become  merely  elaborate  in  details  ; a skilful  slave, 
neither  understood  by  nor  understanding  his  master.  We  must 
admit,  to  the  credit  of  the  Roman,  that  he  was  no  hypocrite  ; this 
vice  (or  perhaps  I should  say  this  resource),  so  common  since  the 
seventeenth  century,  was  below  him.  The  rich  envelope  with  which 
he  covered  his  monument  held  certain  relations  with  its  structure 
after  all,  yet  we  can  plainly  see  that  he  attached  to  this  envelope  but 
little  importance.  In  fact,  he  treated  the  whole  question  of  art  with 
a sort  of  good-nature  (if  I may  use  the  word)  which  is  not  without 
its  charm,  and  certainly  has  a trait  of  grandeur  in  it.  But  in  this 
respect  we  must  not  deceive  ourselves  : when  the  Roman  wished  to 
be  an  artist  in  his  own  time  and  fashion,  it  was  not  easy  to  equal 
him.  There  is  one  remarkable  example  of  this  in  a certain  monu- 
ment, known  to  all  the  world,  traditionally  but  ignorantly  admired, 
and  generally,  in  an  artistic  point  of  view,  falsely  appreciated,  — the 
Column  of  Trajan.  I doubt  if  the  Greeks  ever  conceived  anything 
like  this,  for  in  it  the  peculiar  genius  of  the  Romans,  their  ideas  of 
order  and  method,  their  sentiment  as  a ruling  people,  are  pushed 
even  to  the  sublime.  There  is  something  foreign  to  the  Greek  mind 
in  thus  writing  the  history  of  a conquest  on  a spiral  of  marble  ter- 
minated by  the  statue  of  the  conqueror.  The  Athenians  were  too 
envious  to  render  such  honor  to  any  man,  and  they  had  none  of  those 
ideas  of  political  order  which  were  so  powerfully  expressed  in  the 
column  of  the  Forum  of  Trajan.  From  the  base  to  the  summit  it 
bears  the  imprint  of  Roman  genius.  Its  square  base  is  covered  with 
low  reliefs,  representing  trophies  of  the  arms  of  conquered  nations. 
Above  the  door,  which  gives  entrance  to  the  staircase,  which  winds 
up  within  the  column  to  the  abacus  of  its  capital,  is  an  inscription 
supported  by  two  winged  Victories.  On  the  angles  of  the  cornice 
of  the  base  four  eagles  hold  in  their  beaks  garlands  of  laurel.  The 
torus  of  the  base  is  itself  a great  crown.  Then,  like  a ribbon  wound 
around  the  shaft,  is  a sort  of  continuous  frieze,  on  which  is  sculp- 
tured in  the  most  admirable  manner  the  story  of  the  first  campaign 


112 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  Trajan.  In  about  the  middle  of  the  height  of  the  column  a 
Victory,  in  low  relief,  traces  the  record  of  the  actions  of  the  conqueror 
on  a tablet.  Then  begins  the  series  of  bas-reliefs,  representing  the 
second  campaign,  winding  up  till  the  capital  brings  these  august 
archives  to  a close.  The  capital  approaches  the  Greek  Doric  in 
character,  and  its  echinus  is  cut  with  the  egg-and-tongue  ornament. 
The  whole  is  terminated  by  a circular  pedestal  supporting  the  statue 
of  Trajan.  If  the  conception  is  beautiful,  the  construction  is  not  less 
so.  The  shaft  is  composed  of  enormous  blocks  of  white  marble, 
within  which  is  hollowed  out  the  staircase  with  its  newel.  The 
capital  is  monolithic,  and  the  pedestal  is  of  eight  pieces  of  marble. 

The  curious  descriptions  which  Pausanias  has  left  us  regarding 
Greece,  refer  at  every  turn  to  the  public  places  and  acropoles  of 
cities  tilled  with  statues,  votive  monuments,  and  bas-reliefs,  sculp- 
tured by  such  an  artist,  and  commanded  by  such  a person,  to 
commemorate  or  consecrate  some  fact.  Thus  the  Greek  cities  often 
seemed  actual  museums  in  the  open  air,  collections  of  works  of  art, 
surrounding  and  tilling  their  principal  monuments.  But  for  the 
Roman  such  things  were  mere  amusements.  If  he  would  have 
a work  of  art,  he  took  care  that  it  should  be  well  ordered,  that 
it  should  present  a complete  whole,  and  should  have  the  impor- 
tance, the  clearness,  and  the  methodical  spirit  of  a law,  a political 
or  administrative  edict.  The  artist  disappeared;  the  monument 
was  simply  a sénat as-consul turn . But  when  ideas  so  broad  and  so 
elevated  find  fit  expression  in  a monument  like  the  Column  of 
Trajan,  I confess  that  for  me  Greek  art,  if  not  in  form,  at  least 
in  spirit,  seems  vanquished.  Yet  a decree,  to  accomplish  its  object 
most  effectually,  is  better  upon  paper  than  in  a bad  monument 
imperfectly  rendering  a political  thought. 

A Roman  monument  should  never  be  studied  alone  for  its  own 
sake,  but  as  one  of  a class  ; it  is  never  an  isolated  example,  but  part 
of  a vast  system  which  requires  to  be  understood  before  the  form  and 
objects  of  the  structure  can  be  justly  criticised.  In  the  political 
organization  of  the  Romans,  everything,  even  religion,  tended  to  the 
same  end.  The  same  is  true  of  their  architecture.  The  buildings 
which  best  characterized  the  Roman  spirit  were  baths,  palaces, 
theatres,  with  their  vast  dependencies,  and  villas,  that  is,  monumental 
cities,  as  it  were,  including  in  themselves  all  which  belonged  to  the 
material  and  intellectual  life  of  the  Romans.  Everywhere  they  were 


PKÆTORIAN  CAMPS. 


113 


essentially  Roman  citizens,  and  so  far  as  practicable,  even  at  home  as 
private  individuals,  surrounded  themselves  with  all  the  appointments 
of  a Roman  city.  If  the  Roman  was  rich  enough  to  build  a villa 
according  to  his  ideal,  it  included,  not  only  the  structures  belonging 
to  a private  habitation,  not  only  the  dependencies  of  a vast  establish- 
ment at  once  military  and  rural,  but  a basilica,  baths,  a theatre,  a 
library,  a museum  and  temples,  like  those  destined  for  public  use. 
It  is  then  in  this  co-ordinate  mass  of  monuments  that  we  must  seek 
to  understand  Roman  architecture,  and  to  discover  the  general  meth- 
ods and  the  details  belonging  to  it. 

As  the  essence  of  the  Roman  edifice  was  its  plan,  let  us  pursue 
our  investigations  in  this  especial  branch  by  comparing  the  plans  of 
two  public  structures  whose  objects  were  entirely  distinct,  barracks 
and  baths. 

On  the  northeast  extremity  of  the  sixth  district  of  Rome,  and  in 
Adrian’s  villa  at  Tivoli,  there  can  still  be  seen  the  remains  of  grand 

Fig.  14. 


camps  or  permanent  quarters  for  troops.  Each  of  these  establish- 
ments consists  of  a square  enclosure  entered  by  four  gates  ; against 
the  inner  side  of  all  the  enclosing  walls  is  disposed  a series  of  cham- 
bers, each  covered  with  a round  arched  vault.  Within  the  enclosure 
8 


114 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


are  a number  of  isolated  structures,  composed  each  of  a long  longi- 
tudinal wall,  on  either  side  of  which  similar  series  of  chambers  are 
arranged  back  to  back.  In  the  centre  is  the  prætorium,  a square 
building,  destined  for  the  dwelling  of  the  commander -in-chief.  In 
the  middle  of  one  of  the  sides  of  the  enclosing  wall  is  a temple, 
in  which  were  preserved  the  military  ensigns,  which,  among  the 
Romans,  were  objects  of  divine  worship.  Each  corps  has  its  sepa- 
rate building,  conveniently  disposed  ; in  short,  no  plan  could  be 
simpler  or  better  suited  for  this  special  service.  Fig.  14,  which 
gives  the  configuration  of  the  great  praetorian  camp  of  the  sixth 
district  of  Rome,  sufficiently  illustrates  this.  . Fig.  15  explains  the 
method  of  construction.  Great  care  was  observed  in  these  structures 


Fig.  15. 


with  regard  to  hygiene.  Where,  as  in  the  camp  of  the  villa  of 
Adrian  at  Tivoli,  these  ranges  of  cells  were  built  against  a face  of 
rock  or  the  side  of  a hill,  the  walls  adjoining  the  escarpment  were 
made  double  to  avoid  humidity.  The  Roman  never  spared  space, 
nor  yet  did  he  occupy  it  uselessly;  his  military  and  civil  organization 
led  him  to  love  symmetry,  but  lie  did  not  sacrifice  necessity  to  it. 

In  examining  their  baths,  we  shall  see  how  nobly,  and  with  what 
luxury  of  construction  and  decoration,  this  people  understood  how  to 
give  harmony  and  unity  to  a programme  embracing  the  most  various 
uses  and  requirements.  Every  one  knows  what  these  uses  were. 
In  the  earlier  days  of  the  republic,  the  baths  of  the  Romans  were 
small  establishments,  supplied  with  water  from  Avells  or  from  the 


THE  BATHS  OF  THE  HOMANS. 


115 


Tiber;  but  in  the  year  441  of  Rome,  Appius  Claudius  brought  water 
from  the  lake  of  Præneste  to  the  city  by  means  of  aqueducts.  His 
example  was  followed  by  subsequent  magistrates,  and  soon  the 
Romans  constructed  public  and  private  baths,  after  the  fashion  of 
those  of  the  Greeks. 

Under  the  emperors,  these  edifices  were  numerous,  and  most  of 
them  embraced  not  only  pools  and  rooms  devoted  to  hot  and  cold 
baths,  but  gymnasiums,  halls  of  assembly,  libraries,  gardens,  prome- 
nades, everything  in  short  which  could  contribute  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  mind  or  of  the  body.  For  a very  low  price  of  admission  these 
baths,  with  all  their  luxuries  and  conveniences,  were  available  to 
every  citizen.  Under  these  circumstances  it  is  not  difficult  to  under- 
stand that,  however  numerous  were  these  institutions  in  the  popu- 
lous cities  of  antiquity,  they  were  always  full.  Many  Romans  passed 
the  greater  part  of  the  day  within  their  walls.  Under  the  Automnes, 
Rome  possessed  already  three  immense  public  baths,  those  of  Agrip- 
pa, those  of  Titus,  and  those  of  Caracalla.  Later,  Dioclesian  and 
Constantine  built  baths.  A whole  city  might  be  enclosed  within  the 
walls  of  one  of  these  structures  ; and  yet,  if  we  examine  their  plans, 
we  shall  find  there  no  confusion,  no  useless  or  lost  space,  but  everv- 
where  order,  the  marks  of  a well-understood  and  thoroughly  executed 
design,  simple  distributions  adroitly  managed  to  meet  the  practical 
necessities  of  the  time  and  place. 

Let  us  first  analyze  this  programme  : There  must  be  a great  en- 
trance hall  so  arranged  as  to  admit  the  freest  ingress  and  egress  ; 
opening  from  it  must  be  cells  for  those  desiring  to  bathe  for  the 
sake  of  health  without  mingling  with  the  crowd,  and  apartments  for 
women,  who,  coming  from  without,  could  take  baths  at  certain  hours 
without  entering  the  enclosure.  These  cells  and  apartments  should 
be  very  numerous,  and  must  each  be  preceded  by  an  anteroom,  in 
which  the  robes  of  the  bathers  can  be  deposited  in  the  hands  of 
slaves.  A portico  should  give  covered  entrance  to  these  chambers. 
In  the  enclosure  proper  of  the  baths  there  must  be  a garden  refreshed 
with  fountains,  and  supplied  with  seats  and  exhedras  or  semicircular 
benches  of  marble  for  repose  and  conversation  ; open  courts  for  lec- 
turers and  philosophers  ; extensive  uncovered  promenades  for  those 
wishing  to  take  their  exercise  without  being  crowded  and  jostled  by 
the  public;  closed  rooms  for  academical  discussions;  open  palæstras 
or  gymnasiums  lor  those  who  would  exercise  themselves  in  various 


116 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


games  ; academies  closed  and  covered  ; porticos  for  the  directors  of 
the  exercises  where  they  would  be  removed  from  the  noise  of  the 
palæstras  ; magazines  for  the  storage  of  sand  and  oil  for  the  wrestlers, 
for  linen,  fuel,  etc.  ; great  open  courts  or  arenas  for  athletic  sports, 
such  as  games  with  the  ball  or  quoit  ; amphitheatrical  ranges  of  seats 
for  the  spectators  of  these  sports  ; and  numerous  apartments  for  the 
officers  and  slaves  of  the  establishment.  These  various  courts  and 
offices  are  all  to  be  arranged  outside  of  and  around  the  main  build- 
ings of  the  baths.  To  the  latter  access  must  be  obtained  by  one  or 
more  vestibules  ; within,  in  succession,  there  must  be  apartmënts  for 
undressing,  with  wardrobes,  in  charge  of  special  attendants  ; waiting- 
rooms  ; the  cold  bath,  a vast  basin  opening  from  the  vestibules  ; 
tepid  baths  and  apartments  large  enough  for  exercise,  with  places 
reserved  for  spectators  ; a warm  room  preceding  the  hot  bath,  which 
should  be  a large  basin  deep  enough  for  swimmers  ; a smaller  hot- 
water  basin  for  those  who  would  bathe  more  privately.  Beyond  the 
hot  bath  there  must  be  other  tepid  baths  and  rooms,  serving  as  a 
transition  from  the  temperature  of  the  caldarium  or  hot  bath,  through 
rooms  of  graduated  coolness  to  the  outer  air.  Annexed,  for  those 
coming  out  of  the  baths,  there  must  be  provided,  on  the  one  hand, 
apartments  in  which  their  bodies  may  be  anointed  with  oil,  prepara- 
tory to  engaging  in  exercises  and  athletic  sports,  for  which  especial 
halls  are  to  be  provided,  and  on  the  other,  there  must  be  libraries 
and  rooms  for  conversation,  public  readings,  and  lectures.  There 
must  also  be  prepared  a closed,  hot  vestibule  leading  to  the  suda- 
torium, or  sweat-bath,  composed  of  rooms  heated  to  a high  temper- 
ature, regulated  at  will,  and  supplied  with  a basin  of  hot  water, 
reservoirs,  stoves,  furnaces,  etc.  Rooms  for  the  instruction  of  pupils 
in  gymnastic  exercises  must  also  be  included  in  this  vast  suite  of 
apartments. 

This  programme  not  only  supposes  a building  surpassing  in  extent 
any  modern  structure,  but  exacts  from  the  architect  the  most  difficult 
task  which  could  be  assigned  him:  the  disposition  en  suite  of  very 
large  and  very  small  apartments,  varying  in  height  and  superficial 
dimensions,  and  devoted  to  various  specified  uses.  We  shall  see  that 
constructors  who  could  build  barracks  for  soldiers  on  the  simplest 
data,  could  also  meet  all  the  elaborate  conditions  of  this  programme 
with  incomparable  skill,  truth,  and  exactness  of  judgment.  But  its 
various  requirements  were  only  satisfied  by  the  application  of  a vig- 
orous and  logical  principle. 


THE  BATHS  OF  CARACALLA. 


117 


Let  us  select  for  examination  the  Baths  of  Caracalla  as  the  most 
complete  of  all  the  Roman  baths,  and  as  made  most  thoroughly 
known  to  us  by  the  care  and  judicious  criticism  of  the  learned  and 
modest  Blouet,  a professor  whose  loss  we  can  never  cease  to  regret. 
Let  us  study  together  the  plan  of  this  establishment. 

Availing  himself  of  the  disposition  of  the  land,  the  architect  estab- 
lished a vast  plateau  A B C D.  On  the  entrance  side  G and  outside 
the  enclosure  were  cells  for  separate  baths  provided  with  porticos 
and  easy  stairs.  They  were  in  two  stories  ; each  cell  was  vaulted 
with  a round  wagon-arch,  like  the  cells  of  the  prætorian  barracks, 
and  contained,  as  already  mentioned,  an  anteroom  and  also  a basin 
large  enough  to  accommodate  several  people.  The  enclosure  of  the 
baths  was  penetrated  by  a grand  open  entrance  in  the  centre  of  the 
side  G and  by  several  inferior  gates  along  the  length  of  the  palæs- 
tras.  On  entering,  the  visitor  found,  in  the  midst  of  an  immense 
space  divided  into  gardens,  walks,  etc.,  a vast  pile  containing  the 
principal  halls  and  apartments  of  the  establishment.  The  symme- 
try which  distinguished  this  structure  was  the  result  of  a practical 
necessity,  and  not  a mere  aesthetic  refinement.  It  was  composed  of 
the  great  mass  of  the  superior  apartments,  the  cold  bath  at  E,  the 
tepid  bath  and  room  at  E,  the  hot  bath  and  vestibule  at  I,  dis- 
posed singly  in  the  axis  of  the  edifice  and  dominating  over  the 
whole,  while  the  subordinate  and  lower  offices  were  doubled  and 
grouped  equally  on  either  side  of  the  main  mass.  This  disposition 
afforded  a reasonable  accommodation  for  the  crowds  frequenting  the 
baths,  the  important  halls  being  kept  spacious  and  proportionately 
high,  to  avoid  embarrassments  from  the  greater  number  of  people 
they  were  destined  to  contain  at  once  ; while  the  inferior  offices  and 
adjuncts  were  doubled  in  number  and  diminished  in  size,  that  the 
public  might  be  more  conveniently  divided  and  disposed  for  the 
purposes  to  which  these  secondary  apartments  were  devoted. 

The  architect,  with  much  intelligence,  observed  that  an  edifice,  the 
resort  of  a great  crowd  at  certain  hours,  should  be  supplied  with 
many  entrances  to  avoid  disorder.  Two  of  these  were  opened  at  J ; 
within  these  he  arranged  two  rooms,  K,  for  undressing,  with  the 
wardrobes,  L,  attended  by  slaves.  The  rooms  1/  were  designed  for 
the  storage  of  sand  and  oil  for  the  wrestlers.  The  vestibules  or  cov- 
ered passages  n,  opening  from  the  dressing-rooms  K,  on  the  cold- 
water  basin  E,  were  for  the  accommodation  of  those  who  came 


118 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


merely  to  refresh  themselves  with  a plunge  or  swim.  The  basin  of 
cold  water,  E,  was  open  to  the  sky,  as  it  is  not  necessary  to  protect 
bathers  in  cold  water  from  the  rain,  and  as  cold  water  in  a closed 
place  would  be  unwholesome.  Apartments  destined  for  those  who 
desired  repose  or  conversation  were  disposed  at  N.  Thence  the 
bathers  penetrated  to  the  tepid  bath  {tepidarium)  E,  which  was  di- 
vided into  three  sections  : the  principal  one  for  the  exercises,  the 
two  others  on  either  side  for  the  assistants.  Smaller  basins  were 
placed  in  the  recesses  0,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  two  lateral  rooms. 
At  P were  reserved  two  areas  to  contain  the  furnaces  and  reservoirs 
for  hot  water.  Erom  the  centre  of  the  tepidarium  F there  was  access 
to  a second  tepidarium,  0 E,  which  served  as  a vestibule  to  the  hot- 
water  bath  {caldarium).  The  two  doors  between  this  vestibule  and 
the  caldarium  were  relatively  narrow  and  indirect,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  introduction  of  currents  of  colder  air  into  the  latter.  The  cal- 
darium was  an  immense  circular  room  covered  by  a very  lofty  hem- 
ispherical dome,  in  order  that  the  vapor  condensed  from  the  hot 
water  might  not  concentrate  and  drip  over  the  great  basin.  Smaller 
basins  were  reserved  in  the  recesses  of  the  circular  wall  for  those 
desiring  to  bathe  apart.  Openings  filled  with  glazed  windows  ad- 
mitted light  at  the  lower  and  upper  levels  of  the  caldarium.  The 
bathers,  wishing  to  leave,  found  at  Q tepid  rooms  with  basins  of 
lukewarm  water,  serving  as  a transition  between  the  temperature  of 
the  caldarium  and  that  of  the  outer  air.  Thus  those  who  were  de- 
parting did  not  meet  or  interfere  with  those  who  were  entering. 
Then  came,  in  the  same  range,  the  cool  rooms  R,  opening  upon  the 
outer  gardens.  Erom  these  rooms  the  bather,  by  crossing  the  open 
courts  S,  serving  for  exercises,  and  by  passing  through  narrow  pas- 
sages, could  enter  the  small  lukewarm  rooms  which  served  as  ves- 
tibules for  the  sweating-room  {sudatorium) . Reservoirs  for  warm 
water  were  arranged  in  the  spaces  Iy  P'.  At  the  extremities  were 
the  vast  peristyles  T,  with  exhedras,  for  those  desiring  to  walk,  con- 
verse, or  listen  to  the  public  readers  ; then  the  spaces  U were  des- 
tined for  the  instruction  of  pupils  in  gymnastics  ; two  especial  vesti- 
bules, with  libraries,  were  disposed  at  W ; in  the  angles,  at  V,  were 
placed  basins  of  cold  water  for  the  use  of  those  exercising  in  the 
arena  for  athletic  sports  (< xystunî)  X,  while  the  arena  itself  was  ter- 
minated by  graduated  rows  of  seats  for  the  accommodation  of  spec- 
tators. 


THE  BATHS  OP  CABACALLA. 


119 


On  either  side  of  the  xystuin  were  the  gymnasiums  Z,  with  the 
academical  apartments  a,  and  those  reserved  for  debates  at  b ; at,  c 
was  the  portico  for  the  masters  of  the  gymnasiums.  At  an  isolated 
and  tranquil  point  were  the  rooms  d,  in  which  the  philosophers  or 
lecturers  were  accustomed  to  confer.  In  fine,  rooms  for  the  attend- 
ants of  the  baths  were  at  e,  with  lodgings  above.  At  g were  im- 
mense reservoirs  in  two  stages,  and  the  aqueduct  which  introduced 
the  water  is  indicated  at  h. 

It  may  be  objected  that,  if  the  programme  is  here  exactly  tilled, 
it  is  because  it  was  prepared  after  the  buildings  were  erected.  But 
this  observation  would  be  unjust  ; for,  if  we  examine  the  plans  of  the 
Baths  of  Agrippa,  or  of  Titus,  or  Dioclesian,  or  Constantine,  we  shall 
find  the  same  conditions  equally  well  carried  out  with  remarkable 
difference  in  the  methods. 

But  what  more  especially  deserves  our  attention  is  the  skill  and 
good  judgment  with  which  this  plan  is  put  together.  Its  disposi- 
tion with  regard  to  the  points  of  the  compass  is  remarkable.  All 
the  warm  rooms  faced  the  southwest,  and  the  vast  rotunda  of  the 
caldarium  was  raised  to  the  height  of  more  than  half  its  diameter,  so 
that  it  might  receive  the  sun’s  rays  all  day  long.  Observe  also  how, 
with  so  great  a space  at  his  disposal,  the  architect  economized  his 
land  ; with  what  skill  he  fitted  the  various  rooms  together,  profiting 
by  every  void  allowed  by  the  construction  ; how  he  shouldered,  as  it 
were,  and  sustained  the  great  mass  of  constructions  by  using  the 
smaller  rooms  to  hold  up  the  greater  ; and  how  well  the  thrusts  of 
the  vaults  were  met  by  those  of  the  abutments.  Observe,  too,  how 
clear  and  easy  to  read  this  plan  is  ; how  economical  of  space  are  its 
arrangements,  how  adroitly  managed  its  issues,  — large  and  numer- 
ous where  crowds  could  collect,  but  small,  deep,  and  indirect  where 
larger  openings  would  introduce  dangerous  currents  of  air  and  inter- 
fere with  the  various  temperatures.  The  Romans  were  indebted  to  no 
foreigners  for  these  ideas;  they  were  the  natural  result  of  the  desire 
and  the  power  to  satisfy  their  peculiar  necessities  by  the  most  direct 
methods  ; and  it  followed  from  their  social  state  that  these  methods 
were  very  simple  and  economical.  These  walls  and  these  enormous 
piers  were  never  constructed  of  cut  stones,  whose  quarrying,  cutting, 
transportation,  and  laying  would  be  expensive  and  tedious,  but  of 
brick  and  rubble.  The  faces  of  the  walls  were  built  of  triangular 
bricks,  their  larger  side  laid  toward  the  exterior  ; the  mass  of  the  wall 


120 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


within  being  composed  of  a concrete  of  coarse  gravel  and  an  excellent 
mortar.  Binding  courses  of  larger  bricks  were  laid  every  four  feet, 
as  if  to  correct  the  construction  and  secure  the  levels.  Discharging 
arches  of  brick,  built  in  the  mass  of  the  wall,  distributed  the  weights 
among  the  principal  points  of  support.  In  the  vaulting,  the  main 
arches  or  ribs  were  of  large  bricks,  generally  in  two  courses,  the 
vaulting  itself  being  a concrete  of  mortar  and  pumice-stone,  beaten 
down  on  the  form  or  centering  of  timber,  on  which  had  been  pre- 
viously laid  two  thicknesses  of  coarse  tiling, — the  whole  forming 
a firm  construction  when  this  centering  was  removed.  This  sim- 
ple, economical,  and  easily  executed  construction  completed,  the 
architects  built  their  porticos  with  columns  and  entablatures  of  mar- 
ble ; the  rough  walls  and  piers  were  everywhere  (at  least  on  their 
inner  surfaces)  covered  with  a superb  veneering  of  marble  up  to  a 
certain  height  ; and  the  rest  of  the  wall-space,  the  vaults  and  niches, 
with  painted  stucco  or  a mosaic  made  of  a vitrified  paste  of  many 
colors.  In  all  the  rooms  the  pavements  of  tessellated  marble  were 
laid  upon  hollow  floors,  composed  of  large  square  double  bricks  or 
tiles  resting  upon  little  piers  under  each  corner,  with  one  under  each 
centre  ; these  pavements  were  not  only  dry  and  perfectly  whole- 
some, but  could  be  warmed  beneath  by  currents  of  air  from  the 
furnaces.' 

* Our  own  costly  methods  of  construction,  the  useless  quarries  of 
stone  which  we  accumulate  in  our  buildings,  and,  in  connection  with 
this  luxury,  the  extreme  poverty  of  the  details  of  our  interior  con- 
struction with  plaster  and  paper  to  cover  it,  are,  it  must  be  confessed, 
barbarous  enough,  when  compared  with  the  simple,  rational,  and 
true  methods  of  the  Romans.  At  enormous  expense  we  pile  stone 
upon  stone,  employing  all  our  resources  to  cut  and  carve  them. 
We  draw  on  our  quarries,  as  if  they  were  inexhaustible,  to  build 
our  little  structures  ; and  after  all  our  efforts  and  expenditures  to 
erect  walls  of  useless  cost  and  strength,  and  admraible  conductors 
of  humidity,  our  resources  are  too  much  exhausted  to  enable  us  to 
adorn  this  precious  material  within  in  a suitable,  permanent  man- 
ner. So  we  call  to  our  aid  the  plasterer,  the  worker  in  carton- 
pierre,  the  carpenter  with  his  cheapest  and  lightest  woods,  the  me- 
chanical painter  with  his  flat  pigments,  and  thus  with  wretched  rags 
and  tatters  cheaply  conceal  the  unnecessarily  costly  material  of  our 
walls.  If,  as  we  pretend,  we  owe  our  arts  to  the  Romans,  and  if  our 


THE  BATHS  OF  ANTONINUS  CARACALLA. 


RUINS 


IE  FRIGIDARIUM. 


i 


* 


CONSIDERATIONS  OP  ECONOMY  AND  TEMPERATURE.  121 


architecture  boasts  of  being  the  daughter  of  theirs,  we  ought  at  least 
to  imitate  them  in  those  respects  wherein  they  were  truly  wise  and 
reasonable,  and  not  build  in  solid  stone  structures  which  they 
would  more  judiciously  have  constructed  of  brick  and  rubble,  nor 
ape  forms  of  architecture  which  resulted  from  a method  of  building 
which  we  cannot  or  do  not  care  to  follow.  But  the  disadvantages 
of  this  substitution  of  cut  stone  for  brick  and  rubble  are  not  limited 
to  considerations  of  expense  and  the  inconveniences  attending  the 
misunderstanding  of  a principle.  These  great  Roman  monuments, 
constructed  as  their  walls  were,  and  with  such  an  adroit  disposition 
of  smaller  rooms  profiting  by  the  intervals  left  between  the  points 
of  support,  which  were  necessitated  by  the  greater  extent  and  height 
of  the  larger  apartments,  possessed  an  advantage  of  which  we  have 
not  yet  spoken  : they  were  thus  enabled  to  preserve  in  the  interior  a 
mild,  equable  temperature  through  all  seasons,  — an  advantage  which 
would  be  very  precious  in  a climate  like  ours.  St.  Peter’s  at  Rome 
recalls  the  general  plan  and  system  of  construction  of  the  great  halls 
of  the  baths  ; now,  by  virtue  of  that  similarity,  this  basilica,  whose 
enclosed  space  surpasses  that,  of  any  other  known  structure,  main- 
tains a temperature  at  all  seasons  nearly  the  same,  soft  and  refresh- 
ing in  the  summer  without  humidity,  and,  in  the  winter,  mild  and 
dry.  Thick  walls  of  brick  and  rubble  transmit  from  without  neither 
heat,  cold,  nor  dampness  ; they  form,  as  it  were,  a neutral  obstacle  to 
the  exterior  temperature.  But  the  buildings  which  we  construct  of 
stone  are  dangerous  in  the  summer  by  reason  of  the  dampness  which 
their  walls  preserve,  while  in  winter  they  are  icy. 

If  we  examine  the  elevations  and  sections  of  the  Baths  of  Caracalla, 
we  shall  find  in  their  outer  walls  enormous  apertures,  formerly  fur- 
nished with  bronze  frames,  containing  plates  of  glass  or  translucent 
alabaster,  or  simply  open  to  the  outer  atmosphere  ; but  we  shall 
also  discover  that  these  apertures  opened  towards  the  most  favorable 
points  of  the  horizon,  carefully  profiting  by  the  heat  of  the  sun  and 
avoiding  damp  or  cold  exposures.  In  fact,  the  Romans  attached 
great  importance  to  the  orientation  of  their  edifices.  Vitruvius  re- 
turns many  times  to  this  subject  in  the  course  of  his  treatise  ; he 
even  indicates  the  manner  in  which  the  streets  of  a town  should  be 
laid  out  to  give  the  greatest  comfort  to  the  habitations  and  to  avoid 
strong  draughts.  In  Book  VI.,  Chapter  I.,  he  says  : — - 

“ In  constructing  a building,  our  first  consideration  should  be  the 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


climate  of  the  country  in  which  it  is  to  be  erected  ; for  the  arrange- 
ment of  a structure  in  Egypt  should  be  different  from  that  of  a 
structure  in  Spain,  a building  in  Pontus  should  not  be  like  a build- 
ing in  Rome.  ....  In  northern  countries,  houses  should  be  very 
tightly  built,  and  covered  with  vaults,  and  their  apertures  should  be 
small,  and  face  towards  the  warmest  point  of  the  horizon.  In  south- 
ern countries,  on  the  contrary,  where  the  heat  of  the  sun  is  oppres- 
sive, the  apertures  should  be  larger,  and  open  towards  the  north  to 
receive  the  cooler  and  more  refreshing  airs  from  that  quarter  ; thus 
the  inconveniences  arising  from  a natural  excess  may  be  obviated 
by  art.” 

Now  the  Romans,  when  they  became  masters  of  the  world,  fol- 
lowed everywhere  the  same  methods  of  construction,  because,  indeed, 
those  methods  were  everywhere  applicable  ; but  their  apertures  for 
air  and  light  were  carefully  disposed  to  suit  the  locality  of  their 
structures,  as  indicated  in  the  passage  from  Vitruvius. 

Before  quitting  the  Baths  of  Antoninus  Caracalla,  I shall  endeavor 
to  give  an  idea  of  their  vast  and  beautiful  constructions  by  present- 
ing in  Plate  VI.  the  actual  state  of  ruin  of  the  frigidarium,  marked  E 
on  the  plan,  one  of  the  noblest  and  most  original  conceptions  of  this 
great  structure,  and,  in  Plate  VIE,  a restoration  of  the  same  part, 
both  views  being  taken  from  the  same  point,  &>,  on  the  plan.  In 
these  we  find  an  apt  illustration  of  the  principal  peculiarity  of  Ro- 
man architecture,  the  essential  distinction  between  the  construction 
and  the  decoration,  the  building  having  been  actually  erected  before 
the  architect  was  called  upon  to  ornament  it.  In  Plate  VII.,  in 
which  the  frigidarium  is  represented  open  to  the  sky,  we  can  see, 
above  the  three  great  main  arches,  the  apertures  admitting  light  into 
the  central  hall  E of  the  tepidarium,  under  the  arches  of  the  triple 
cross-vault  which  covers  it. 

The  attention  of  the  reader  has  been  directed  to  the  Baths  of 
Caracalla,  not  because  they  are  a fair  epitome  of  all  Roman  archi- 
tecture, but  because  they  present  the  fullest  development  of  the 
essential  points  of  originality  of  that  architecture  at  an  advanced 
period  of  Roman  history.  According  to  Vitruvius,  even  so  late  as 
the  age  of  Augustus,  wood  played  an  important  part  in  architecture, 
not  as  a mere  provisionary  scaffolding  or  centering  for  the  construc- 
tion of  vaults,  but  as  a permanent  means  of  covering  buildings. 
Almost  all  the  rectangular  temples,  whose  plan  and  structure  Avere 


ROMAN  VAULTING. 


123 


borrowed  from  the  Greeks,  and  the  naves  of  all  the  basilicas,  were 
roofed  with  wood.  It  was  not  until  after  the  great  tire  of  Rome, 
under  Nero,  that  the  Romans  almost  everywhere  abandoned  these 
wooden  roofs  and  substituted  for  them  vaults  in  masonry,  though 
the  Baths  of  Agrippa  and  the  Pantheon,  in  which  the  principle  of  the 
vault  and  dome  was  intelligently  used,  were  built  long  before  that 
time. 

The  great  circular  hall,  the  caldarium,  of  the  Baths  of  Caracalla, 
closely  resembled  the  Rotunda  of  Agrippa  in  many  respects  ; but,  if 
the  details  of  its  architecture  were  less  pure  and  executed  with  less 
refinement  and  elegance,  it  must  be  admitted  that,  as  a composition, 
it  was  superior  to  the  Pantheon,  so  flu*  as  we  can  judge  from  the 
remains,  especially  as  restored  by  the  conscientious  labors  of  the  late 
M.  Blouet.  We  cannot  but  admire  the  greater  frankness  with  which 
the  construction  of  this  room  was  confessed  both  in  the  interior  and 
exterior  decoration. 

The  Romans  particularly  affected  two  principal  dispositions  in  the 
construction  of  their  vaulted  buildings  : the  circular  construction 
covered  by  a hemispherical  dome,  and  the  construction  in  bays  such 
as  we  have  seen  adopted  in  the  great  central  tepid  room  of  the  Baths 
of  Caracalla,  such  as  were  used  in  the  Baths  of  Titus  and  Dioclesian, 
and  in  the  monument  known  as  the  Basilica  of  Maxentius  or  Con- 
stantine. Their  vaults  were  either  domical  or  semi-cylindrical  ; and 
it  was  by  causing  two  of  the  latter  (i.  e.  the  wagon-vaults)  to  pene- 
trate each  other  at  right  angles,  that  the  cross-vault  was  found. 
These  two  systems,  with  this  complex  derivative,  sufficed  for  all 
their  uses,  and  the  combinations  of  their  plans  were  but  the  neces- 
sary consequences  of  the  three  methods.  If  they  had  a circular 
room,  they  covered  it  with  a hemispherical  vault  ; if  a semicircular 
room,  they  used  the  half  of  a hemispherical  vault  ; an  oblong  room, 
whose  lateral  walls  were  thick  or  well  abutted  by  supernumerary 
constructions,  they  enclosed  with  the  continuous  wagon-vault  ; a 
square  room,  whose  angles  could  withstand  a thrust,  was  roofed  with 
the  cross-vault  ; and  if,  by  reason  of  convenience,  their  oblong  rooms 
or  naves  had  to  be  pierced  on  the  longer  sides  with  three  or  more 
grand  lateral  bays,  thus  obtaining  isolated  points  of  support,  there 
were  three  or  more  corresponding  cross-vaults,  the  main  longitudinal 
wagon-vault  being  crossed  at  right  angles  by  the  transverse  wagon- 
vaults  connecting  the  opposite  bays. 


124 


DISCOURSES  ON  AEC HITECTUEE . 


This  large  and  simple  disposition  divided  the  entire  weight  of  the 
vault  among  the  piers  or  buttresses,  which  were  very  often  adorned, 
each  on  the  inner  face,  with  a column,  receiving  the  foot  of  the  cross- 
vaulting, as  indicated  in  Fig.  1G.  This  column,  as  it  was  always 
monolithic,  the  Roman  employed  as  a rigid  pier  or  vertical  prop 
placed  exactly  under  the  springing  of  the  vault,  in  order  to  furnish 
an  incompressible  and  apparently  light  point  of  support.  But  here 
we  can  see'  that  the  Roman  was  not  inspired  by  the  sure  taste  of 
the  Greek,  or  rather  that  it  was  only  in  exceptional  cases  that  he 
preoccupied  himself  with  questions  of  art  ; for  he  interposed  be- 
tween the  springing  of  the  vault  and  his  column  a full  entablature 
with  its  architrave,  frieze,  and  cornice,  in  the  form  of  a block.  If 
it  is  reasonable  to  place  an  entablature  on  a column  as  the  artistic 
expression  of  a horizontal  construction,  as  in  the  post  and  lintel  sys- 
tem of  the  Greeks,  it  is  hardly  reasonable  when  the  column  is  the 
vertical  prop  to  the  thrust  of  a vault  ; and  we  may  well  ask,  Why  use 
this  entablature,  and  what  signifies  its  cornice,  or  sheltering  projec- 
tion, in  an  interior,  where  it  only  serves  to  destroy  the  unity  of 
aspect  which  a great  room  should  present,  whose  vault  is  but  the 
arching  over  of  its  walls?  But,  as  I have  said,  the  Roman  seized 
the  Greek  order  complete,  without  troubling  himself  to  analyze  or 
take  into  account  the  peculiar  function  of  each  of  its  parts,  or  to 
modify  it  to  suit  the  strange  uses  to  which  he  applied  it.  If  he 
wished  to  establish  a separation,  after  the  fashion  of  an  open  screen, 
between  two  rooms  connected  by  one  of  his*great  arched  bays,  as  we 
have  seen  so  often  in  the  baths,  he  took  a little  order  complete  and 
used  it  as  one  would  use  a barrier  or  balustrade.  Fig.  16  shows  one 
of  these  secondary  orders  in  A.  He  thus  placed  a little  Corinthian 
order  by  the  side  of  a great  Corinthian  order,  their  members  and 
profiles  being  nearly  the  same,  one  the  diminutive  of  the  other.  The 
result  is  that,  while  the  great  order  seemed  colossal,  the  little  order, 
by  comparison,  appeared  insignificant  and  mean.  As  the  invention 
of  the  Roman  was  ingenious  and  copious  in  construction,  in  decora- 
tion it  was  sterile  ; the  more  wealth  he  lavished  on  his  ornaments,  the 
greater  was  the  poverty  or  rather  indifference  to  taste  he  manifested, 
for  the  more  precious  the  material,  the  more  fastidious  should  we 
become  regarding  its  form.  In  the  baths,  the  Roman  was  Roman 
indeed,  and  the  decoration  he  saw  fit  to  borrow  from  the  Greeks  had 
really  an  importance  so  secondary  that  it  would  be  lost  time  to  dwell 
upon  its  details. 


Fig.  18. 


ALLIANCE  OF  CONSTRUCTION  AND  DECORATION.  125 


The  Greek  must  have  been  very  much  embarrassed,  when  placed 
among  these  great  Roman  concretions,  to  decorate  them  with  his 
delicate  architecture,  the  issue  of  constructive  methods  so  vitally  dif- 
ferent ; yet,  we  must  admit,  there  was  a certain  grandeur  and  fitness 
in  the  manner  in  which  the  rough  but  workman-like  construction  of 
the  Romans  was  covered  with  precious  marbles,  with  stucco  and 
painting,  and  in  which  these  entered  into  the  composition  of  the 
orders  and  harmonized  together. 

But  Roman  buildings  were  not  always  so  absolute  in  their  use  of 
architectural  details,  nor  was  their  decoration  always  so  distinct  from 
the  construction.  In  the  basilicas,  for  instance,  whose  plans,  con- 
struction, and  decoration  were,  however,  a Greek  tradition,  the  two 
principles  were  in  harmony.  We  shall  presently  have  occasion  to 
examine  and  study  this  structure,  and  shall  see  how  it  became  a 
great  type,  and  what  transformations  it  underwent  in  the  hands  of 
the  mediaeval  builders  of  Western  Europe. 

If  Roman  architecture  was  monotonous  as  regards  the  decorative 
envelope,  it  was,  as  we  have  said,  fertile  in  structure  and  in  the 
development  of  plans.  The  practical  requirements  of  Roman  struc- 
tures, as  met  and  solved  by  the  architects,  resulted  in  marked  dis- 
tinctions of  character  between  their  buildings.  It  is  impossible  to 
mistake  a Roman  bath  for  a theatre,  a theatre  for  a basilica,  a basilica 
for  a temple.  The  exterior  aspect  and  the  plan  of  the  Roman  monu- 
ment were  always  a frank  confession  and  expression  of  its  uses  and 
requirements  ; the  Romans  never  sacrificed  these  to  the  puerile  sat- 
isfaction of  making  what  we  call  architecture.  Their  first  aim  was 
the  simplest  and  most  exact  expression  of  the  programme  ; their 
second,  to  clothe  the  forms,  thus  indicated  by  practical  necessity, 
with  an  effect  of  power  and  wealth.  If  the  programmes  were 
vague,  if  the  practical  requirements  to  be  accommodated  were  not 
sufficiently  well  defined,  as  in  the  basilicas,  for  example,  which 
were  sometimes  promenades,  sometimes  markets,  or  exchanges,  or 
tribunals,  or  places  of  discussion,  the  architects  varied  their  plans 
according  to  their  own  interpretation  of  the  immediate  or  local 
conditions  of  the  problem.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  the  programme 
was  positive,  if  necessity  or  experience  dictated  the  general  plan 
and  detail  of  the  design,  as  in  the  case  of  theatres,  amphitheatres, 
and  circuses,  an  invariable  conventional  form  was  adopted  and  every- 
where repeated  with  scarcely  a modification.  Thus  the  Coliseum,  the 


12G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


amphitheatre  of  Verona,  the  arenas  of  Nismes  and  Arles,  are  in 
general  disposition,  plan,  exterior  aspect,  and  method  of  construction 
nearly  identical.  The  Romans  derived  their  amphitheatres,  or  at 
least  their  spectacles,  from  the  Etruscans  ; but  the  Greeks  did  not 
adopt  them  until  their  country  had  become  a province  of  the  empire. 
Up  to  the  time  of  the  Gracchi,  at  Rome,  temporary  ranges  of  wooden 
seats  and  scaffoldings  had  been  constructed  for  the  spectators  of  the 
sports  of  the  circus  ; but,  under  the  emperors,  durable  and  permanent 
structures  were  erected,  so  disposed  as  to  accommodate  conveniently 
in  their  enclosure  an  immense  concourse  of  people,  each  of  whom 
had  an  unobstructed  view  of  the  combats  between  gladiators,  animals, 
condemned  prisoners,  and  even  ships,  which  took  place  in  the  arena. 

“ The  Etruscans,”  said  Quatremère  de  Quincy,  in  his  Dictionnaire 
Historique  d' Architecture,  “addicted  to  all  sorts  of  religious  super- 
stitions, appeared  to  have  imbibed  a sombre  spirit,  a cruel  and 
ferocious  disposition,  and  savage  prejudices.  In  thunder  and  light- 
ning, in  the  usual  ills  and  scourges  of  nature,  they  saw  the  anger 
of  the  gods,  to  be  appeased  only  by  blood.  In  Etruria,  therefore, 
the  sanguinary  combats  of  the  arena  were  not,  as  afterwards  in 
Rome,  the  mere  amusement  of  an  idle  and  remorseless  population, 
but  a religious  rite,  and  religion  built  their  amphitheatres.” 

The  primitive  amphitheatres  of  Italy  were  mere  circular  or  ellip- 
tical excavations  surrounded  by  slopes,  occasionally  supplied  with 
temporary  scaffolding,  erected  at  the  time  of  the  celebrations,  to 
accommodate  the  spectators.  The  remains  of  that  at  Pæstum  are 
of  this  character.  This  simple  programme  gave  occasion  to  the 
Romans  to  build  immense  structures  in  masonry,  which,  however, 
in  all  cases,  rigorously  followed  the  primitive  forms  in  terraces  and 
wood.  The  theatres  of  the  Greeks  were  ordinarily  disposed  in  a 
semicircle  on  the  hollow  flanks  of  a hill,  with  a favorable  aspect, 
the  circles  and  descending  grades  being  cut  in  the  rock,  and  sur- 
mounted by  a structure  of  wood,  and  the  scenery  being  constructed 
partly  of  wood  and  partly  of  masonry.  Such  were  the  theatre  of 
Syracuse,  all  of  whose  ranges  of  seats  remain,  and  that  of  Ephesus. 
Rut.  the  Greeks  had  no  amphitheatres  ; the  barbarous  spectacles  to 
which  these  structures  were  devoted  were  little  suited  to  a refined 
people  who  sought  emotion  rather  in  the  dramatic  development  of 
the  passions,  in  poetic  fictions,  than  in  the  savage  realities  of  a mas- 
sacre. The  Romans,  on  the  other  hand,  were  greedy  for  the  sanguin- 


ROMAN  AMPHITHEATRES. 


127 


ary  spectacles  of  Etruria,  in  the  beginning,  perhaps,  to  satisfy  certain 
religious  principles,  but,  in  the  end,  merely  to  occupy  and  distract 
the  idle  populations  of  great  cities  ; and  they  did  not  fail  to  bring 
to  bear  on  these  structures  their  invariable  and  peculiar  adminis- 
trative genius,  to  regulate  and  give  them,  as  it  were,  an  official  char- 
acter, perfectly  suited  to  the  service- for  which  they  were  destined, 
in  order  to  avoid  confusion  and  disorder  ; for,  in  admitting  and  even 
sharing  in  the  brutal  instincts  of  the  plebeians,  the  magistrates  en- 
deavored to  develop  these  instincts  in  an  orderly  manner  and  always 
under  their  own  eyes.  It  was  the  policy  of  government.  They  did 
not  seek  to  ameliorate  or  to  stifle  the  barbarous  passions  of  the  peo- 
ple, but  to  rule  and  direct  them  according  to  certain  ordinances  of 
police,  preferring  to  furnish  regular  food  for  these  passions  rather 
than  to  see  them  develop  in  riot  in  the  market-places. 

The  largest  amphitheatre  constructed  was  that  known  at  Rome  as 
the  Coliseum  ; it  could  contain  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
spectators.  But  it  is  a singular  fact  that  this  edifice  was  begun  and 
finished  by  the  two  most  humane  and  enlightened  of  all  the  Roman 
emperors,  Vespasian  and  Titus,  his  son,  and  it  is  said  that  the  work 
was  completed  in  two  years  and  nine  months.  These  two  emperors 
therefore  regarded  amphitheatres  as  among  those  monuments  of 
public  utility  whose  erection  was  most  important  to  the  welfare  of 
Rome.  However  much  the  emperors  loved  vast  and  splendid  monu- 
ments, it  can  hardly  be  admitted  that  two  of  the  wisest  among  them 
would  have  devoted  enormous  treasures  to  construct  with  such  mar- 
vellous precipitation  an  edifice  of  this  character,  unless  its  utility  had 
been  regarded  as  urgent  indeed. 

The  artificial  mounds  which  surrounded  the  early  Italian  arenas 
like  a crater,  had  the  double  disadvantage  of  obliging  the  spectators 
to  mount  the  outer  slope  in  order  to  descend  to  take  their  places  on 
the  inner,  and  of  occupying  an  undue  amount  of  space  with  its  outer 
slope  of  45  degrees  or  less.  That  is  to  say  (Fig.  1 7),  in  order  to  ob- 
tain an  arena  whose  diameter  should  be  equal  to  A B,  A/  IT,  all  the 
space  B C,  I)  A,  A'  F,  IV  E,  had  to  be  sacrificed  to  bank  up  the 
earth.  In  speaking  of  the  baths,  the  attention  of  the  reader  was 
drawn  to  the  economy  with  which  the  Romans  occupied  land  in 
their  structures,  limiting  the  spread  of  their  edifices  to  the  spaces 
deemed  absolutely  necessary  to  satisfy  the  conditions  of  the  problem. 
Even  in  the  early  days  of  the  republic,  Rome  was  so  crowded  and 


128 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  public  buildings  so  considerable  and  numerous,  that  economy 
of  space  became  an  absolute  necessity  to  the  architect  in  that  city. 
Custom  presently  converted  this  into  an  invariable  law  among  the 
Romans,  even  when  ample  space  was  available  for  their  buildings. 
The  theatres,  which  they  built  after  the  Greeks,  and  the  amphi- 
theatres, which  they  copied  from  the  Italian  nations,  were  at  first 
mere  temporary  wooden  structures,  such  as  are  now  occasionally 
constructed  in  Spain  and  even  in  France  ; but  the  frequency  of 
fires,  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  the  necessary  quantity  of  material, 

Fig.  17. 


the  ephemeral  and  unstable  character  of  these  structures,  soon 
obliged  them  to  build  their  amphitheatres  of  masonry.  One  of  the 
first  thus  built  was  the  theatre  of  Pompey  at  Rome,  now  in  ruins  ; 
and  before  long  stone  amphitheatres  were  constructed,  not  only  at 
Rome,  but  in  nearly  all  the  cities  of  the  provinces. 

In  constructing  their  amphitheatres  the  Romans  closely  adhered  to 
the  type  of  the  primitive  terraces  ; that  is  to  say,  they  constructed 
steps  of  stone  around  an  elliptical  arena,  suppressing,  however,  the 
exterior  slopes,  and  supplying  their  place  with  an  upright  wall, 


CONSTRUCTION  OF  AMPHITHEATRES. 


129 


pierced  with  numerous  bays  in  successive  stories,  so  as  to  establish 
under  the  grades  of  seats  such  passages  and  staircases  as  should 
enable  an  immense  number  of  spectators  to  enter  and  spread  among 
the  seats  at  various  heights,  or  to  leave  promptly  and  without  crowd- 
ing. The  staircases  regularly  arranged  around  the  arena  gave  access 
to  the  seats  by  openings  called  vomitories.  One  must  visit  the 
arenas  of  Arles,  Nismes,  Verona,  and  especially  the  amphitheatre  of 
Vespasian  (the  Coliseum)  at  Rome,  to  form  a just  idea  of  these  vast 
monuments,  so  judiciously  combined  in  general  plan  and  in  the 
numerous  details  of  their  construction,  — monuments  in  which  we 
find  no  lost  space,  in  which  everything  concurs  to  carry  out  a well- 
understood  programme  of  requirements,  — monuments,  in  fine,  com- 
bined with  severe  economy,  but  made  to  last-  forever.  Here,  better 
than  anywhere  else,  can  we  appreciate  the  cellular  system  of  Roman 
construction,  which  consists  in  elevating  and  sustaining  enormous 
masses  by  means  of  points  of  support  or  isolated  walls,  united  to- 
gether and  mutually  propped  by  vaults  at  different  stories.  The 
whole  construction  of  the  amphitheatres  consists  simply  of  a suc- 
cession of  partition  walls  all  tending  towards  the  centre  of  the 
ellipse,  and  covered  by  ramping  vaults  following  the  slope  of  the 
grades  of  seats  and  sustaining  them.  The  encompassing  wall, 
strengthened  and  tied  by  these  numerous  buttress-like  walls  of 
partition,  has  little  but  its  own  weight  to  support  ; it  is,  properly 
speaking,  but  an  envelope  which  can  be  removed  without  interfering 
with  the  solidity  of  the  sloping  grades,  which  is  the  main  object  to 
be  attained.  Indeed,  at  Verona,  this  exterior  wall  is  now  almost 
entirely  destroyed,  yet  the  amphitheatre  remains  in  a sufficiently 
good  state  of  preservation  to  serve  still  for  certain  public  festivals. 

There  is  yet  to  be  seen  at  Pola  in  Illyria  a vast  amphitheatre  built 
probably  under  Diocletian  ; here  the  ranges  of  seats  and  the  stair- 
cases were  originally  of  wood,  and  the  exterior  elliptical  wall  was  the 
only  portion  constructed  in  stone.  It  is  the  primitive  amphitheatre 
of  the  republic  enclosed  in  masonry.  It  is  probable  that  this  method 
was  often  adopted  in  the  provinces,  principally  in  well-wooded  coun- 
tries ; it  was  a ready  and  economical  means  of  constructing  a monu- 
ment of  the  first  necessity  to  the  Romans,  as  it  served  not  only  for 
their  games,  but  for  their  popular  reunions.  The  amphitheatre  of 
Pola  is  another  example,  showing  how  the  Romans  always  adopted 
the  simplest  and  most  convenient  method  of  carrying  out  the  vast 
9 


130 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


architectural  schemes  imposed  by  their  civilization  ; how  they  varied 
their  architecture  to  suit  local  necessities  and  circumstances,  as  re- 
gards material,  time,  and  resources,  without  infringing  on  the  condi- 
tions of  the  national  programme  for  such  structures,  which  seems  to 
have  had  all  the  rigor  of  a law.  The  exterior  stone  wall  of  this 
amphitheatre,  which  is  in  an  excellent  state  of  preservation,  is  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  examples  of  Roman  architecture,  not  on  account 
of  its  details,  which  are  rough,  unfinished,  and  in  a bad  style,  but  by 
reason  of  the  excellent  judgment,  the  characteristic  skill  and  solidity, 
with  which  it  is  built.  It  is  another  instance  of  how  little  the  Ro- 
man cared  for  that  perfection  of  form,  that  refinement  and  delicate 
study  of  details,  which  was  the  most  characteristic  preoccupation  of 
the  Greek.* 

The  ranges  of  seats  in  the  amphitheatre  of  Flavius  Vespasian  (the 
Coliseum  of  Rome)  were  originally  crowned  by  a gallery  or  portico 
of  wood,  for  the  especial  accommodation  of  females  ; but  after  this 
gallery  had  been  destroyed  by  fire,  it  was  rebuilt  in  marble  with  a 
ceiling  of  wood  by  Heliogabalus  and  Alexander  Severus.  Of  this 
upper  gallery  nothing  now  remains  but  a few  broken  columns  and 
capitals.  The  Coliseum  has  been  made  familiar  to  all  by  numerous 
drawings  and  engravings,  and,  above  all,  by  the  remarkable  work 
of  M.  Due.  Instead,  therefore,  of  entering  into  a long  description 
of  this  structure,  I would  draw  your  attention  simply  to  certain 
general  dispositions  which  it  exemplified,  so  that  it  may  be  clearly 
understood  how  the  Romans  proceeded  when  they  had  a definite 
programme  to  carry  out. 

That  which  first  strikes  us  in  the  Roman  amphitheatres  is  the  ellip- 
tical form  of  their  arenas  and  encircling  ranges  of  seats.  There  must 
have  been  some  good  reason  for  this,  as  it  would  have  been  much 
simpler  both  in  design  and  execution  to  adopt  a circular  plan.  To 
make  the  partition  walls,  bearing  the  seats  and  separating  the  stair- 
cases, radiate  towards  the  foci  of  an  ellipse,  presented  a practical 
difficulty  to  be  carefully  avoided  unless  there  was  an  absolute  neces- 
sity for  such  an  arrangement.  Now,  in  the  Roman  theatres,  the 
ranges  of  seats  were  disposed  in  a semicircle  in  front  of  the  stage. 
It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  to  build  an  amphitheatre,  it  would 
only  be  necessary  to  bring  together  two  such  semicircles,  with  the 


* See  the  general  views  and  details  of  tlie  amphitheatre  of  Pola  in  the  fourth  volume  of 
Stuart’s  “Antiquities  of  Athens.” 


THE  ELLIPTICAL  PLAN  OP  AMPHITHEATRES. 


131 


two  stages  or  orchestras  included  between  them  in  the  arena.  But, 
observe,  the  stage  of  the  Greek  or  Roman  theatre  was  not  so  con- 
structed as  to  bring  the  eyes  of  the  spectators  to  a point,  for  it  was 
a space  much  more  wide  than  deep  along  which  the  actors  were 
necessarily  obliged  to  spread  themselves.  For  the  same  reason,  the 
arena  of  the  amphitheatre,  instead  of  being  made  circular,  thus  al- 
ways crowding  the  spectators  towards  a common  centre,  presented 
an  oblong  space,  which,  by  its  shape,  compelled  the  numerous  actors 
in  those  bloody  dramas,  which  were  often  but  frightful  and  disorder- 
ly mêlées  of  men  and  savage  animals,  unconsciously  to  divide  them- 
selves and  widen  the  scene  of  combat.  This  oblong  arena  not  onlv 
afforded  the  combatants  a larger  and  more  favorable  field  than  a cir- 
cular one,  especially  when  two  masses  of  men  were  arrayed  against 
each  other,  but  enabled  the  spectators  to  command  a distinct  view  of 
the  various  phases  of  the  combat  along  a somewhat  extended  line, 
instead  of  concentrating  their  attention  on  a single  point.  But  thea- 
tres and  amphitheatres  were  not  confined,  in  their  use,  to  public  sports 
and  scenic  representations  ; these  structures  were  places  of  popular 
reunion,  where  the  multitudes  were  accustomed  to  gather  whenever  an 
oration  was  to  be  delivered,  an  election  to  be  held  ; in  a word,  they 
were  open  for  all  those  occasions  of  public  assembly  which  the 
political  system  of  the  Romans  rendered  so  frequent. 

Let  it  be  clearly  understood  that  I dwell  upon  this  subject  in 
order  to  illustrate  the  distinctive  characteristic  of  the  Roman  build- 
ing as  the  result  in  every  case  of  an  exact  and  carefully  studied 
observation  of  practical  necessity,  never,  as  too  often  in  our  days, 
submitting  its  dispositions  to  caprice  or  to  mere  conventional  rules 
of  architecture,  which,  in  reality,  serve  but  to  embarrass  and  dis- 
tract the  architect  from  the  real  issue.  In  constructing  such  a vast 
edifice  as  the  Coliseum,  on  an  elliptical  plan,  though  a thousand  prac- 
tical difficulties  presented  themselves,  difficulties  of  planning,  laying 
out,  and  construction,  difficulties  of  general  design  and  of  detail, 
— for  while,  to  construct  * a circular  building,  it  would  have  been 
necessary  to  lay  out  upon  paper  or  upon  the  site  itself  merely  a 
quarter,  an  eighth,  or  even  a sixteenth  of  the  whole  as  a model  for 
the  rest,  an  elliptical  plan  required  a separate  study  of  a certain 
number  of  sections  comprising  at  least  a quarter  of  the  whole,  — 
yet,  as  the  conditions  of  the  programme  were  established  on  an 
exact  observation  of  the  destination  of  the  structure,  the  Roman 


132 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


architect  did  not  suffer  himself  to  be  turned  aside  by  any  such 
perplexities.  It  is  in  this  respect  that  the  Roman  monuments 
should  serve  as  examples  for  us,  as  among  no  other  people  have 
the  general  dispositions  of  the  plan  exercised  so  absolute  a power 
over  the  architecture,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  the  structure  of 
their  edifices. 

The  Roman  never  felt  about  in  the  dark  ; it  was  the  sign  of  a 
very  advanced  state  of  civilization  that  he  submitted  everything  to 
common-sense.  lie  dictated  like  a master  who  knew  what  he  wanted 
and  what  was  necessary  ; he  made  himself  obeyed  because  he  made 
himself  understood.  Since  his  time  architecture  has  been  less  dis- 
tinctly defined  ; governments  no  longer  impose  definite  tasks  on  their 
artists,  and  the  artists  must  interpret  as  well  as  they  can  the  vague 
ideas  suggested  to  them  ; and  if,  under  these  circumstances,  they  can 
arrive  at  remarkable  results,  they  cannot  attain  that  strong  common- 
sense,  that  unity,  which  is  the  basis  of  Roman  architecture.  At 
present,  notwithstanding  our  civilization  and  the  power  of  our  in- 
stitutions, we  are  in  a state  of  chaos  and  disorder  as  regards  art; 
we  know  not  what  we  want  ; and  our  public  buildings,  for  the 
most  part,  are  no  sooner  finished  than  their  deficiencies  become 
evident,  and  we  must  needs  modify  or  recommence  them  at  great 
expense. 

Our  artists  discuss  about  style,  preoccupy  themselves  with  con- 
siderations of  the  architectural  order  to  be  used,  blame  or  approve 
such  a form  of  art,  adopt  or  dismiss  such  a tradition  ; but  as  for 
that  large  and  true  way  of  appreciating  the  architecture  which 
should  belong  to  a great  people,  they  hardly  think  of  this,  and 
are  content  if  they  are  allowed  to  use  the  mouldings  they  prefer, 
or  to  place  columns  here  or  pinnacles  there.  If  we  are  Latins,  as 
has  been  said,  let  us  at  least  resemble  the  Latins  in  those  qualities 
which  distinguished  them  above  all  others.  Indeed,  I very  much 
fear  we  are  more  like  those  Romano-Greeks  of  Byzantium,  who 
disputed  about  the  Transfiguration  while  the  armies  of  Mahomet 
II.  were  thundering  at  their  ramparts. 

An  essential  point  of  difference  between  the  mind  of  the  Greek 
and  that  of  the  Roman  consisted  in  the  fact  that,  while  the  former 
allowed  himself  to  be  governed  by  his  artistic  sentiment  to  such  an 
extent  that  he  regarded  it  as  a necessity  to  submit  practical  re- 
quirements to  the  principles  of  art,  the  Roman  never  permitted  these 


ART  AND  COMMON-SENSE. 


133 


principles,  or,  if  you  please,  the  love  of  absolute  beauty,  to  take  any 
such  precedence.  Let  us  take  a striking  example  : The  Propylæa 
of  Athens  or  of  Eleusis,  instead  of  being  treated  like  the  gates  of 
citadels,  which  they  are,  would  recall,  on  tlieir  exterior  faces,  the 
façades  of  sacred  temples,  were  it  not  for  the  three  doors  pierced 
in  the  walls  behind  the  porticos.  But  the  Romans  never  gave  to 
the  entrance  of  a citadel  the  appearance  of  a temple.  With  them, 
the  form  of  every  editice  was  the  true  expression  of  the  purpose  to 
which  it  was  devoted,  and  if  the  architectural  details,  the  borrowed 
decoration,  contrasted  sometimes  with  this  general  form,  it  had  not 
such  importance  as  to  influence  the  real  mass  imposed  by  the  pro- 
gramme. 

We  shall  see  what  further  developments  this  principle  assumed 
and  into  what  abuses  it  finally  fell  ; for  all  principles,  however 
good  or  true  they  may  be,  are  destined  to  perish,  not  so  much 
by  abnegation  as  by  misapplication. 

We  shall  also  see  presently  how,  in  times  when  it  was  intended  to 
reproduce  Roman  architecture,  the  essential  qualities  of  that  architec- 
ture were  neglected  to  imitate  that  which  was  not  essential  ; that  is, 
the  decorative  envelope,  to  which  the  Romans  attached  no  other  ideas 
than  those  of  luxury  and  fashion. 


FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


OS  TITE  METHODS  TO  HE  FOLLOWED  IS  THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE.- OS  THE  BASILICAS 
OF  THE  ROMANS.  — OS  THE  DOMESTIC  ARCHITECTURE  OF  THE  ANCIENTS- 


HEN  we  undertake  to  explore  the  course  of  a 
river,  we  do  not  start  from  its  sources,  but  from 
its  mouth  ; we  advance  against  its  current  and 
examine  its  gradually  contracting  banks.  We 
include  all  its  tributaries  in  our  researches,  we 
study  their  shores,  their  rapids  and  cataracts,  and 
pursue  our  investigations  even  to  their  several  fountain-heads.  By 
this  means  we  arrive  at  a knowledge  of  the  nature  of  its  principal 
waters,  its  drift,  the  causes  of  its  ebb  and  flow,  the  wash  of  its 
banks,  and  the  character  of  its  sources. 

Now,  since,  in  the  modern  practice  of  architecture,  purely  scientific 
or  technical  knowledge  is  not  regarded  as  sufficient,  but  the  study  of 
the  architect  must  embrace  historical  precedent,  let  us  examine  the 
stream  of  time  with  all  the  thoroughness  of  the  geographical  ex- 
plorer, and  ascertain  the  origins  of  the  arts  and  the  often-conflicting 
principles  which  gave  them  birth.  It  has  been  our  fate  to  come 
after  the  Asiatics,  the  Egyptians,  the  Greeks,  the  Romans,  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  the  Renaissance  ; and,  since  the  nineteenth  century,  it 
has  been  common,  therefore,  to  confound  architecture  with  mere 
archaeology,  and  to  limit  the  study  of  this  art  to  a knowledge  of 
antique  precedent  and  an  examination  of  the  practical  methods  sup- 
plied by  experience  and  tradition  ; this  is  an  unfortunate  fact  over 
which  we  can  have  no  control.  Let  us,  therefore,  make  the  best  of 
it,  and  when  we  hear  in  our  schools  of  art  such  teachings  as  this, 
“ You  must  study  this  river,  not  from  its  mouth  to  the  sources  of  all 
its  tributary  streams,  but  from  the  mouth  of  this  tributary  to  the 


THE  STUDY  OP  ARCHITECTURAL  PRECEDENT. 


135 


mouth  of  that,  for  it  is  only  in  this  part  of  its  course  that  its  waters 
are  pure  and  its  banks  fertile,”  let  us  reply,  “ Not  so  ; for,  if  the 
unexplored  portions  of  the  stream  above  and  below  the  points  which 
you  assign  as  the  limits  of  study  were  examined,  would  not  the 
sphere  of  our  observations  be  so  enlarged  as  to  enable  us  to  compare 
many  different  features  and  results,  and  consequently  to  form  better 
and  less  prejudiced  opinions  ? ” 

The  artists  of  the  Renaissance,  in  their  love  for  heathen  antiquity, 
evinced  more  enthusiasm  than  reflection  ; they  were  like  those  who, 
having  discovered  the  remains  of  some  buried  city,  marvel  at  the 
beauty  of  each  fragment,  and  heap  them  together  without  order,  tak- 
ing no  care  to  discriminate  whether  they  belong  to  one  or  to  several 
monuments,  whether  they  are  of  the  same  age,  or  whether  they 
possess  more  or  less  artistic  value.  Vanity  is  apt  to  incline  men  to 
regard  as  particularly  precious,  not  only  what  they  originally  produce, 
but  what  they  happen  to  be  the  first  to  find  in  their  path.  “ This 
pebble  is  more  beautiful  than  yours,  because  I picked  it  up.”  Far 
be  it  from  me  to  blame  this  artless  sentiment,  for,  under  its  inspira- 
tion, discovery  and  research  have  brought  to  light  many  a master- 
piece which  otherwise  would  have  been  lost  to  the  world  ; but  when 
very  many  of  these  pebbles  have  been  gathered  together,  classed,  and 
duly  labelled,  it  is  well,  perhaps,  to  distinguish  those  which  are  pre- 
cious stones  from  those  whose  only  merit  is  in  having  been  picked 
out  of  the  dirt.  Admiration  and  enthusiasm  are  necessary  to  theN 
true  artist,  they  inflame  him  with  a proper  and  wholesome  zeal  ; but, 
unless  this  fire  is  kindled  by  worthy  objects,  it  must  soon  be  extin- 
guished without  having  produced  any  other  result  than  a mere  tran- 
sitory and  unfruitful  passion.  He  who  loves  the  noble  and  the  pure 
becomes  himself  ennobled  and  purified  ; but  he  who  prefers  the  com- 
panionship of  the  vulgar  and  degraded  becomes  himself  debased. 
Discrimination  and  research  are  therefore  of  the  greatest  importance 
to  the  youth  who  enters  on  the  career  of  art  ; but,  at  the  present 
day,  discrimination  is  difficult  in  proportion  to  the  greater  number 
of  objects  to  which  it  must  be  applied.  We  have  in  our  libraries 
and  our  museums  drawings  and  other  reproductions  of  innumerable 
monuments,  belonging  to  all  ages  and  all  civilizations,  but  we  do  not 
possess  a method  of  appropriation  and  classification  ; for  I do  not 
believe  we  are  justified  in  regarding  as  such  the  exclusive  preferences 
and  prejudices  of  those  schools  and  coteries  of  art  among  us  which 


136 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


have  no  longer  the  principle  of  life  in  them,  and  whose  existence  is 
only  manifest  in  fretfulness  and  caprice,  without  aim  and  therefore 
without  result. 

When  archaeological  knowledge  was  less  extended  and  minute 
than  at  present,  the  methods  of  architecture  were  comparatively  sim- 
ple, for  all  education  in  the  arts  was  necessarily  circumscribed  by  the 
limits  of  this  knowledge,  and  fewer  side  issues  were  presented  to  em- 
barrass the  student.  Thus,  for  example,  it  is  useful  to  observe  how 
the  monumental  remains  of  antiquity,  and  the  contemporary  writings 
regarding  them,  were  interpreted  by  the  three  centuries  preceding  the 
present.  The  French  translators  and  commentators  of  Vitruvius  in 
the  sixteenth  century  did  not  labor  to  revive  the  actual  appearance 
of  the  structures  described  by  that  author.  The  Italian  school,  suffi- 
ciently pedantic  at  that  time,  aimed  to  be  more  antique  than  the 
ancients,  and  restored  the  monuments  of  antiquity  according  to  cer- 
tain conventional  rules  recognized  in  that  school,  but,  happily,  not 
known  to  antiquity,  which,  like  all  good  epochs  of  art,  Avas  unem- 
barrassed by  any  such  artificial  restrictions.  Under  Louis  XIV.,  Ave 
find  Perrault  translating  Vitruvius  and  composing  from  his  text 
antique  monuments  Avhose  structure  is  impossible,  and  Avhose  form 
recalls  the  bastard  architecture  of  his  oavu  day.  Afterwards,  the 
dislike  for  mediæval  art  was  so  great  that  certain  principles  of 
antique  architecture  were  rejected,  simply  because  the  builders  of 
the  Middle  Ages  understood  Iioav  to  use  and  profit  by  them.  What- 
ever Ave  may  say  of  those  distinguished  men  Avho  wrote  concerning 
architecture  in  the  last  century,  and  even  at  the  beginning  of  this, 
to  us  their  artlessness  and  simplicity  regarding  the  classic  authori- 
ties, as  Avell  as  their  thoughtless  omissions,  render  them  unreliable 
as  archaeologists.  Thus  the  French  translators  of  Vitruvius  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  in  illustrating  their  author,  designed  Renaissance 
monuments  ; Perrault  has  given  us  the  architecture  of  the  age  of 
Louis  XIV.  ; the  Italian  commentators  composed  in  the  style  of  Vig- 
nola or  Palladio  : but  none  of  them  produced  antique  monuments. 
These  men,  though  they  opened  the  way  to  archaeological  informa- 
tion, were  fortunate  enough  to  be  artists  and  not  archaeologists.  I 
am  certain  that  their  condition  in  this  respect  Avas  better  than  ours  ; 
but,  I repeat,  wg  have  not  chosen  our  epoch,  Ave  were  born  in  it,  Ave 
must  take  it  as  it  is  and  live  its  life. 

It  is  very  important  that  young  architects  should  be  taught  to 


THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURAL  PRECEDENT.  137 


reason,  to  habituate  their  minds  to  study  and  analysis.  Instead 
of  this,  most  of  them  abandon  classical  studies  before  they  have 
mastered  them,  on  the  principle  that,  while  life  is  short,  the  art 
of  architecture  is  long.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  architectural 
student  is  not  in  a condition  to  discriminate  wisely  and  develop 
well,  as  would  have  been  more  likely  to  occur  if  his  education  had 
been  simple,  logical,  and  directed  with  a single  and  definite  aim,  - — - 
if,  as  was  the  case  two  centuries  ago,  he  had  had  to  deal  only  with 
certain  conventional  and  universally  recognized  forms  of  art,  or  if  Ins 
attention  had  been  exclusively  confined  to  certain  authors  or  monu- 
ments. But  the  happy  days  of  such  academical  restrictions  are  over, 
and  the  professor  has  no  need  to  fear  to  see  his  pupils  going  hither 
and  thither,  picking  up  good  and  bad  seed  outside  of  the  school. 
At  present  new  objects,  giving  birth  to  new  ideas,  are  constantly'' 
thrust  upon  our  attention.  It  no  longer  requires  six  weeks  to  go 
to  the  eternal  city  ; Africa  and  Asia  are  at  our  doors  ; photography 
inexhaustibly  spreads  abroad  reproductions  of  the  monuments  of 
human  thought  and  labor  in  every  age  and  clime.  The  academical 
method  of  instruction  in  architecture,  Avise  and  sensible  in  the  time 
of  Louis  XIV.,  for  which  it  Avas  made,  is  now  invaded  upon  every 
side.  Architectural  works,  which  fifty  years  ago  would  scarcely  fill  a 
single  shelf  in  our  libraries,  hoav  crowd  an  entire  room.  Every  pupil 
possesses  or  can  possess  elements  of  information  Avhich  formerly  Avere 
concealed  in  the  cabinets  of  masters  and  exhibited  only  to  the  elect. 
The  old  barriers  of  academical  exclusiveness,  in  spite  of  the  eloquent 
protestations  of  the  schools,  are  overthrown  and  trampled  under  foot; 
they  are  lost  in  a flood  of  written,  engraved,  photographed,  and 
moulded  productions,  Avhich  fill  our  cities  and  surprise  the  pupils 
even  in  the  studio  of  the  master,  undermining  his  systems,  contra- 
dicting his  instructions,  and  attacking  his  principles.  What  then 
must  be  done?  Must  Ave  prevent  the  publication  of  books,  photo- 
graphs, and  engravings,  and  forbid  the  architectural  student  from 
availing  himself  of  the  steamboat  or  railway  to  see  Avith  his  own 
eyes  Avhat  has  been  done  in  his  art  in  all  time  and  in  every  country  ? 
Must  Ave  go  back  to  the  stage-coach  or  post-chaise  ; must  Ave  establish 
a cordon  sanitaire  around  the  school  of  art,  and  cloister  the  pupils 
there?  It  seems  to  me  there  remains  to  us  only  this  alternative, 
or  else  to  assume  our  task  resolutely,  and  make  use  of  all  that  Avhich 
our  oaati  times  have  so  abundantly  throAvn  into  our  hands.  If  Ave 
cannot  arrest  the  torrent,  let  us  make  for  it  a bed. 


133 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


In  the  midst  of  so  many  books,  prints,  and  photographs  repro- 
ducing the  arts  of  the  past,  it  is  indeed  a singular  illusion  to  suppose 
that  the  student  can  entirely  overlook  the  works  of  five  or  six  centu- 
ries, and  that  he  will  not  be  fascinated  by  them  and  study  them  ; 
instead  of  trying  to  prevent  this,  it  seems  to  me  much  wiser  to  en- 
deavor to  teach  him  how  to  discriminate  among  them,  what  to  take 
and  what  to  throw  aside.  Yet,  to  review  one  by  one  all  the  monu- 
ments of  antiquity,  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  of  the  Renaissance,  to 
describe  them  to  the  pupil,  to  point  out  to  him  what  we  consider  their 
several  beauties  or  blemishes,  however  scrupulously  the  task  may  be 
performed,  is  evidently  not  the  proper  way  to  indicate  what  should 
be  received  and  what  rejected  ; this  would  simply  be  communicating 
the  personal  ideas  of  the  master,  and  coidd  only  result  in  confusing 
minds  prompt  to  seize  on  appearances  and  to  be  fascinated  by  forms, 
without  accounting  for  the  reason  of  their  existence.  It  is  therefore 
by  teaching  youth  to  reason  on  that  which  he  sees,  by  instilling  in 
him  the  great  principles  of  truth,  immutable  in  all  arts  and  all  times, 
that  we  can  aid  him  in  his  efforts  to  guide  himself  safely  through 
this  flood  of  examples,  and  can  enable  him  to  discriminate  with 
wisdom  and  justice.  But  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that,  if  possible, 
there  is  something  more  dangerous  to  art  than  confusion  ; it  is 
sophistry.  While  we,  as  artists,  desire  to  look,  each  one  only  out  of 
his  own  narrow  window,  and  hope  to  persuade  our  pupils  that  this 
commands  the  only  favorable  prospect,  the  republic  of  arts  is  filled 
with  amateurs,  more  zealous  than  enlightened,  who,  without  any 
practical  acquaintance  with  the  arts,  pretend  to  know  the  true  path 
and  to  show  it  to  all.  One  has  seen  the  Parthenon,  or  has  cleared 
away  a few  courses  of  stone  in  some  buried  monument  of  antiquity  ; 
he  knows  nothing  about  the  church  of  his  own  village,  yet  he  would 
persuade  you  that  Greek  art  is  the  only  one  suited  to  our  needs. 
Another  has  been  shut  up  in  his  own  province,  and  pretends  that 
his  cathedral  alone  possesses  the  Christian  sentiment.  A third  re- 
gards the  architecture  of  this  world  as  beginning  under  Augustus 
and  ending  under  Constantine.  A fourth  declares  that  the  architects 
of  the  Renaissance  alone  knew  how  to  take  up  the  productions  of 
antique  art,  and  that  we  must  exclusively  devote  ourselves  to  the 
consideration  of  their  work.  Each  will  sustain  his  position  by  the 
most  persuasive  and  convincing  arguments,  but  none  of  them  will 
be  reasonable,  because  none  have  ever  known  how  to  lay  one  stone 


ON  THE  CHOICE  OF  STYLE. 


139 


upon  another,  how  to  frame  a beam,  or  to  discriminate  between  the 
proper  employment  of  brick  or  stone.  Each  school  of  artists 
applauds  that  particular  sophistry  which  flatters  its  own  passion 
or  interest,  and  forgets  that,  in  abandoning  itself  thus  to  the  judg- 
ment of  people  without  practical  acquaintance  with  art,  other  judges 
will  arise  to-morrow  to  condemn  with  as  little  authority.  Let  us 
manage  our  own  affairs,  and  try  to  understand  each  other,  though, 
in  truth,  it  is  said  that  this  is  no  easy  task  among  men  of  the  same 
profession.  Yet,  as  we  must  all  submit  to  the  same  laws,  we  ought 
to  know  what  they  allow  and  what  they  forbid. 

Let  it  not  be  understood  that  I am  protesting  against  all  un- 
professional criticism.  We  ought  to  listen  to  public  opinion,  for  I 
aim  not  to  make  of  the  body  of  architects  an  exclusive  sect,  interdict- 
ing all  outside  examination  or  criticism  of  its  doctrines  or  its  works. 
I desire  only  that,  in  the  midst  of  an  actual  anarchy  as  regards  art, 
the  various  schools  or  fractions  of  schools  should,  in  order  to  increase 
their  influence,  lean  upon  something  more  substantial  than  opinions 
uttered  by  amateurs,  more  or  less  enlightened,  should  have  recourse 
rather  to  common-sense,  founded  upon  experience,  than  to  shallow 
theories  and  generalities  about  the  different  styles  of  art  ; for  often  a 
single  word  from  a practical  man  will  destroy  a whole  system  of  mere 
superficial  reasoning.  I anticipate  what  will  be  said  to  me  here  (and 
it  will  not  be  for  the  first  time)  : “ You  reduce  the  part  of  the  archi- 
tect to  the  part  of  the  mason  ; you  give  too  much  importance  to  the 
practical  ; architecture  is  something  more  than  the  mere  art  of  accu- 
mulating  and  putting  together  material  in  a solid  and  workman-like 
manner  ; it  is  the  sister  of  music  and  poetry  ; it  should  leave  much 
to  the  imagination,  to  inspiration  and  taste  ; its  material  laws  should 
be  even  made  subordinate  to  the  same  divine  afflatus  which  inspires 
the  musician  and  the  poet.”  It  may  be  so  ; yet  the  musician,  however 
inspired  he  may  be,  if  he  does  not  understand  the  rigorous  laws  of 
harmony,  produces  but  an  abominable  jingle  ; and  the  poet,  however 
possessed  by  the  muse,  if  he  knows  neither  grammar  nor  prosody,  had 
better  keep  his  poetry  to  himself.  But,  if  everybody  can  detect  bad 
grammar  or  an  ill-made  verse,  if  all  ears  are  offended  at  a discord  or 
a false  note,  it  is  unhappily  not  the  same  with  architecture.  Very  few 
recognize  a fault  of  proportion  or  scale,  an  error  of  construction,  or  a 
disregard  of  even  the  most  vulgar  rules  of  practice.  Sheltered  be- 
hind this  common  ignorance,  all  kinds  of  licenses  are  allowed,  and 


140 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


they  confront  ns  at  every  turn.  It  is  not  every  one  who  can  execute 
an  opera  or  edit  a classic  ; and,  if  the  experiment  should  be  tried, 
the  director  or  the  publisher  would  soon  have  cause  to  regret  that 
he  had  given  to  this  one  the  use  of  his  theatre  and  to  that  the  use  of 
his  presses.  But  every  one  can,  in  a manner,  pass  for  an  architect, 
can  build  ; and  the  public,  unfamiliar  with  the  art,  will  not  hesitate 
to  approve  a conception  without  reason,  or  harmony  of  form. 

We  may  differ  totally  concerning  the  manner  of  expressing  our 
ideas  in  architecture,  on  the  form  we  would  give  to  our  conceptions, 
but  we  all  agree  as  to  the  value  of  rules  imposed  by  common-sense, 
by  experience,  and  by  the  undeviating  laws  of  statics.  Let  us,  there- 
fore, in  this  question  of  architectural  education,  begin  by  establish- 
ing this  agreement,  not  by  unnecessarily  raising  questions  of  form 
or  style  which,  after  all,  have  but  a secondary  importance.  Let  us 
teach  how  every  true  period  of  art  has  endeavored  to  follow  these 
invariable  laws,  how  a given  schedule  of  requirements  should  be  re- 
ceived and  interpreted  by  the  architect,  and  let  us  not  post  before  the 
eyes  of  youth  our  individual  preferences  and  prejudices,  which,  as 
they  are  founded  neither  upon  reason  nor  upon  taste,  only  confuse 
the  public,  when  they  are  expressed  in  actual  buildings,  and  present 
results  which  can  satisfy  neither  the  fancy  nor  the  superficial  knowl- 
edge of  the  multitude.  I desire  that  this  appeal  for  concord  may  be 
understood  ; it  would  be  understood,  if  every  architect,  instead  of 
imputing  to  his  brother  the  notions  with  which  he  is  vulgarly 
supposed  to  be  imbued,  would  examine  his  true  opinions.  If  this 
desirable  mutual  understanding  were  attained,  instruction,  instead 
of  declining  and  falling  into  confusion,  would  certainly  arise  to  a 
much  higher  level.  The  youth,  who,  under  the  present  system  or 
no-system,  takes  sides  with  a blind  passion,  exaggerating  the  points 
of  difference  between  conflicting  schools,  would  know  that,  in  our 
art,  there  is  one  sure  path,  that  indicated  by  wisdom  and  by  reason  ; 
let  us  not  seduce  him  to  the  sentiments  of  this  or  that  school  by 
absolving  him  from  the  necessity  of  that  serious  and  catholic  study, 
that  toilsome  and  material  investigation,  by  which  alone  he  can 
arrive  at  broad  ideas  and  free  himself  from  dangerous  prejudice. 
I do  not  pretend  that  architecture  is  simply  an  art  of  reasoning,  a 
pure  science,  in  a word  ; but,  as  it  is  in  peril,  we  must  hasten  to 
the  point  where  there  is  the  greatest  danger.  When  the  house  is 
on  fire,  we  do  not  stop  to  discuss  whether  it  is  built  according  to  the 


THE  APPEAL  TO  REASON. 


141 


rules  of  Vitruvius  or  in  the  mediaeval  spirit,  but  we  run  for  water. 
I have  already  explained  why  we  should  not,  in  the  present  day,  en- 
deavor to  make  one  form  or  style  of  art  prevail  over  another.  Our 
duty  is  not  to  create  preferences  or  exclusions,  but  to  appeal  to 
reason,  to  analysis,  the  science  of  classing  and  selecting  after  having 
compared  ; this  is  architectural  instruction  in  a practical  path,  with- 
out exclusions,  preferences,  or  vain  theories.  We  live  no  longer  in  a 
time  when  entire  ages  of  history  can  be  effaced  ; and  if  some  tardy 
professors  still  believe  that  their  silence  regarding  certain  epochs  is  a 
service  rendered  to  art,  they  labor  under  a melancholy  delusion  ; this 
very  silence  provokes  research,  this  very  provocation  leads  to  exag- 
geration of  the  value  of  the  results  of  such  research.  To  pretend  to 
conceal  a thing  which  is  in  the  reach  of  everybody,  to  overlook  or  dis- 
dain a general  sentiment,  is  the  folly  of  all  systems  in  their  decline , 
in  politics,  it  is  the  origin  of  violent  revolutions  ; in  the  sciences  and 
arts,  it  is  a door  open  to  extravagances,  to  audacious  ignorance,  to 
thoughtless  reactions,  to  confusion  and  forgetfulness  of  elementary 
principles.  In  times  of  transition  and  new  birth,  like  our  own,  I 
believe  the  only  way  of  assisting  in  this  birth  (and  what  more  can  we 
do?)  is  to  examine  everything  in  good  faith  and  without  passion,  to 
balance  accounts,  as  it  were,  with  the  state  of  our  knowledge  thus 
acquired  ; if  we,  mere  atoms  lost,  in  the  common  flood,  pretend  to 
direct  in  this  great  movement,  I believe  it  should  be  only  by  the 
use  of  our  best  guide,  our  reason,  our  faculty  of  comparing  and 
deducing.  If  this  guide  is  not  infallible,  it  has  at  least  the  qual- 
ity of  illuminating  every  step  of  the  road  and  of  enabling  those  who 
follow  it  to  recognize  and  rectify  their  errors.  This  is  less  danger- 
ous than  silence,  for  silence  is  obscurity,  and  in  obscurity  every  one 
stumbles. 

To  conclude,  I will  add,  then  : First,  that  the  time  has  come  when 
to  direct  exclusive  attention  to  any  particular  period  of  art  is  no 
longer  permissible  ; to  insist  upon  that  which  we  take  for  good 
and  wise  doctrine,  is  to  try  to  circumscribe  the  spirit  of  youth  with- 
in certain  limits,  which,  though  they  might  have  been  large  enough 
a hundred  vears  ago,  when  the  knowledge  of  architectural  forms  was 
restricted,  do  not  exist  to-day  ; it  is  to  perpetuate  a sad  confusion,  to 
deny  an  enormous  mass  of  information  acquired,  of  researches  and 
useful  works.  Second,  that,  in  the  state  of  doubt  into  which  the 
best  minds  have  fallen  with  regard  to  doctrine,  it  is  not  so  much 


142 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  various  forms  and  styles  of  art  which  are  to  be  taught,  as  its 
invariable  principles,  that  is  to  say,  the  reasons  why  certain  styles, 
structures,  and  methods  existed  at  certain  times  rather  than  others, 
and  how  transformations  and  modifications  of  style  accompanied 
changes  in  national  manners  and  requirements  ; but  the  things  to  be 
rejected  are  vague  theories,  all  systems  which  are  based  upon  tra- 
ditions and  are  not  evolved  from  a logical  chain  of  practical  necessi- 
ties, and  all  those  formulas  which  are  claimed  to  be  inviolable,  but 
which  were  never  used  during  the  really  brilliant  epochs  of  art. 
When  faith  is  wanting  to  men  (I  mean  true,  indisputable  faith), 
reason,  the  sentiment  of  truth  and  justice,  remains  our  only  guide  ; 
the  instrument  is  imperfect,  I am  aware,  but  it  is  better  to  use  this 
than  to  have  none  at  all.  Modern  pride  has  replaced  the  fatality 
of  classic  antiquity  and  the  resignation  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Let 
us,  in  the  republic  of  the  arts,  have  in  view  this  change  in  the 
spirit  of  civilization,  which,  in  politics,  has  already  had  its  influence. 
It  is  encouraging  to  see  that  the  leaders  of  the  various  architectural 
schools,  who  accuse  us  of  aiming  to  drag  the  mind  backward,  are 
acting  as  perhaps  the  Athenian  magistrates  or  the  mediaeval  corpora- 
tions acted  in  view  of  the  logical  developments  of  art  in  their  times, 
and  that  Ave,  too,  are  obliged  to  claim  the  independence  of  reason  in 
the  arts.  Voltaire  described  many  similar  contradictions  of  his  time  ; 
Ave,  therefore,  need  not  despair  of  the  future. 

It  is,  therefore,  I think,  by  reasoning  that  the  present  generation 
of  architects  must  Avork  ; and  I am  convinced  that,  by  habituating 
themselves  to  reasoning,  they  can  purify  their  taste.  Every  man  aat1io 
is  born  an  artist  possesses  his  art  by  intuition,  but  this  intuition  can 
only  be  successfully  developed  by  calculation  and  experience.  It  is 
a curious  phenomenon  of  mental  philosophy  that  Ave  OAve  much  more 
to  induction  than  to  intuition  for  neAV  ideas.  Thus,  if  Ave  would  have 
an  architecture  of  our  own,  Ave  must  stir  up  ideas,  not  stifle  them  ; by 
the  aid  of  our  reason,  Ave  must  examine  them  on  all  sides,  we  must 
prove  them  by  comparison  and  by  attrition.  The  ancients  had  an 
advantage  over  us  in  not  possessing  such  an  enormous  mass  of  prece- 
dents as  we  are  obliged  to  keep  in  view  ; they  also  had  the  benefit 
of  an  education  in  perfect  harmony  Avith  their  social  state,  while  ours 
is  but  a crude  and  undigested  accumulation  of  old  traditions  Avhich 
no  one  believes,  and  of  ucav  sciences  which  are  in  manifest  contradic- 
tion with  those  traditions. 


THE  BASILICA. 


143 


Let  men  enjoy  their  inestimable  privilege  of  grumbling  over  the 
degeneracy  of  our  era  as  much  as  they  will  ; but,  for  me,  this  cen- 
tury is  as  good  as  another,  and  I am  willing  to  take  it  as  it  is.  If 
every  one  were  ready  to  do  as  much,  it  would  have  its  original  devel- 
opment of  art  ; to  this  end  we  have  only  to  avail  ourselves  of  our  fac- 
ulty of  reasoning,  and  to  cease  to  act  as  if  we  believed  that  wc  are 
still  living  under  Louis  XIV.,  and  that  M.  Lebrun  is  still  superin- 
tendent of  the  tine  arts  in  France. 

In  our  preceding  Discourse,  we  treated  of  the  vaulted  structures  of 
the  Romans,  that  is  to  say,  of  structures  which  are  the  evident  ex- 
pression of  the  peculiarly  Roman  ideas  of  duration,  possession,  and 
power.  But  the  genius  of  this  people  was  manifested  in  buildings  of 
quite  a different  character.  At  the  close  of  the  republic  and  at  the 
beginning  of  the  empire  the  Romans  were  not  yet  inspired  by  that 
feeling  of  incontestable  superiority,  which,  at  a later  day,  led  them  to 
adopt,  in  their  civil  constructions,  certain  uniform  methods,  which 
they  imposed  upon  all  nations  without  regard  to  local  habits  or  for- 
eign influences.  The  treatise  of  Vitruvius,  though  quite  Roman  in 
spirit,  and  though  betraying  a fondness  for  formulas,  indicates  still 
the  existence  of  a certain  liberty  in  the  art  of  building,  even  under 
the  empire,  — a liberty  which  we  should  study  with  the  greatest  at- 
tention. In  this  connection  let  us  glance  at  the  plan  and  structure 
of  the  Roman  basilica. 

The  name  basilica  is  Greek,  and  signifies  the  royal  house.  It  is 
probable  that  this  word  originally  came  from  Asia,  and  that  it  is  to 
the  successors  of  Alexander,  to  the  Macedonian  kings  established  in 
the  East,  that  we  owe  the  structure  thus  designated.  It  was  appar- 
ently their  divan , the  place  where  they  administered  justice.  Vitru- 
vius makes  no  distinction  between  the  Greek  and  Roman  basilica  ; 
but  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  observe  that  Vitruvius  does  not 
appear  to  have  had  any  exact  idea  of  Greek  architecture  and  of  its 
details.  He  contents  himself  with  remarking  “ that  the  basilica, 
annexed  to  the  forum  or  market-place,  should  be  situated  in  the 
warmest  exposure,  in  order  that  the  merchants  who  frequent  it  in 
the  winter  season  may  not  be  incommoded  by  the  cold.”  He  adds, 
“ that  its  width  should  never  be  less  than  a third  nor  more  than  a 
half  of  its  length,  unless  the  nature  of  the  site  should  impose  a dif- 
ferent proportion.  Here  Vitruvius,  according  to  his  custom,  lays 


144 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


down  certain  formulas  of  proportion,  which  were  not  generally  fol- 
lowed and  which  he  himself  was  the  first  to  disregard  in  his  own 
basilica  of  Fano.  “ If,”  says  he  again,  “ the  site  has  greater  length 
(that  is,  if  the  length  is  more  than  three  times  its  width),  the  super- 
fluous space  should  be  occupied  by  chalcidica  or  subordinate  apart- 
ments annexed  to  the  extremities,  as  has  been  done  at  the  basilica 
of  Julia  Aquiliana  ; the  columns  of  the  basilica  should  be  as  high  as 
the  portico  (or  aisle)  is  wide,  and  the  width  of  this  should  be  a third 
of  the  space  in  the  midst  (the  nave)  ; the  columns  of  the  upper  part 
must  be  smaller  than  those  of  the  lower.  It  is  proper  to  give  to  the 
screen  or  platens,  erected  between  the  upper  columns,  a quarter  less 
than  the  height  of  those  columns,  so  that  those  who  promenade  in  the 
upper  galleries  may  not  be  seen  by  the  merchants  who  congregate 
below.  As  for  the  architraves,  friezes,  and  cornices,  their  proportions 
must  be  deduced  from  the  columns,  as  we  have  indicated  in  the  third 
book.”  * In  translating  this  passage,  I have  kept  as  near  as  possible 
to  the  Latin  text,  which  is  clear  and  precise,  but  not  very  comprehen- 
sive. Indeed,  Vitruvius  does  not  tell  us  whether  this  monument  is 
surrounded  by  a wall,  if  it  is  enclosed,  or  how  it  is  covered  ; in  these 
respects  his  text  leaves  us  in  a state  of  complete  uncertainty.  But 
when  he  describes  the  basilica  of  Fano,  whose  construction  he  him- 
self directed,  he  mentions  walls,  and  dwells  at  some  length  on  the 
arrangement  of  the  columns,  on  their  proportions  and  the  devices 
he  employed  in  establishing  the  upper  gallery  ; but,  as  I have  already 
remarked,  strangely  enough,  he  disregarded,  both  in  general  concep- 
tion and  in  details,  all  the  rules  he  himself  lays  down. 

His  description  of  this  basilica  runs  as  follows,  and  it  is  well  to 
observe  that,  in  speaking  of  the  covering  ( testuclo ),  it  is  certain  from 
the  sequel  that  he  referred,  not  to  a vault  of  brick  or  rubble,  but  to 
a roof  of  timber  : “ The  length  of  the  vault  between  the  columns  is 
one  hundred  and  twenty  feet,  its  width  sixty  ; the  portico  (or  aisle), 
which  surrounds  the  principal  nave,  is  twenty  feet  wide  between  the 
columns  and  the  walls  ; the  columns,  including  their  capitals,  are,  in 
all,  fifty  feet  high,  and  are  five  feet  in  diameter  ; they  have  behind 
them  pilasters,  twenty  feet  high  and  two  and  a half  feet  wide. 
These  sustain  the  beams  on  which  are  laid  the  floors  of  the  gal- 
leries over  the  aisles.  Above  these  pilasters  are  others,  eighteen 
feet  high,  two  feet  wide  and  one  thick,  to  receive  the  longitudinal 


* Vitruvius,  Book  V. 


THE  BATHS  OF  ANTONINUS  CARACALLA. 

RESTORATION  OF  THE  FRIGIDARIUM. 


THE  BASILICA  OF  FANO. 


145 


beams  or  lintels  oil  which  rest  the  upper  ends  of  the  rafters  of 
the  lean-to  roof  over  the  galleries,  which  roof  is  lower  than  the 
vault  (the  covering  of  the  nave).  The  spaces  between  these  'longi- 
tudinal beams,  and  those  resting  on  the  columns  higher  up,  are 
left  open  between  the  capitals  to  give  light  to  the  interior.” 

The  conciseness  of  this  last  passage  renders  the  text  obscure.  I 
shall  presently  endeavor  to  explain  the  arrangement  to  which  he 
refers. 

“ On  each  of  the  two  short  sides  of  the  basilica  are  four  columns  ; 
on  the  long  side  towards  the  forum  there  are  eight,  including  in  all 
cases  the  columns  in  the  corners  ; but  on  the  opposite  long  side, 
looking  towards  the  forum  and  the  temple  of  Jupiter,  there  are  but 
six,  the  two  in  the  middle  being  omitted  in  order  to  leave  open  the 
view  of  the  entrance  hall  (pronaos)  of  the  temple  of  Augustus, 
which  is  adjacent  to  that  side.  In  the  temple  of  Augustus  is  the 
tribunal  in  the  form  of  the  arc  of  a circle  fifteen  feet  deep  and  for- 
ty-six wide.  This  tribunal  is  so  placed  in  order  that  the  mer- 
chants, who  throng  the  basilica,  may  not  interfere  with  the  litigants 
in  the  presence  of  the  magistrates.  Upon  the  columns  is  laid  a 
wooden  architrave  made  of  three  beams  two  feet  thick,  stretching 
all  around  the  enclosure  to  the  aforesaid  opening,  and  there  return- 
ing against  the  wall  ends  of  the  pronaos  so  as  to  rest  upon  the 
antæ  or  pilasters  on  either  side.  On  these  architraves  and  in  the 
axis  of  each  column  are  laid  blocks  three  feet,  high  and  four  feet 
square,  on  which  rest  wall-plates  carefully  joined  and  made  of  beams 
two  feet  thick,  sustaining  the  ends  of  the  tie-beams  and  principal 
rafters.  On  these  is  laid  the  roof  of  the  basilica  and  of  the  pronaos, 
on  the  outside  forming  the  covering  of  the  structure,  and  on  the  in- 
side the  vault  or  ceiling.  This  method  of  construction  spares  much 
labor  and  expense,  for  it  dispenses  with  all  the  features  of  the  en- 
tablature above  the  architrave  as  well  as  the  upper  order  of  columns 
with  their  pilasters.  This  single  order  of  columns,  moreover,  directly 
supporting  the  roof,  adds  much  to  the  majesty  and  dignity  of  the 
whole  structure.” 

5 itruvius,  naturally  enough,  maintains  that  his  work  is  good,  and, 
indeed,  he  seems  to  me  to  display  excellent  judgment.  At  all  events, 
he  illustrates  sufficiently  well  that  the  ancients,  in  their  architectural 
compositions,  possessed  that  quality  of  freedom  from  academical  re- 
straints which  is  a distinguishing  attribute  of  all  good  epochs  of 
10 


146 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


art.  A half-century  ago  Vitruvius,  judged  by  the  rules  of  architec- 
ture as  then  understood,  would  not  have  obtained  even  a notice  in 
the  school  of  tine  arts  for  his  design  of  the  basilica  of  Fano  ; nay, 
he  would  have  been  ruled  out  of  the  competition  ; he  would  have 
been  put  back  to  the  lowest  seats  to  learn  Roman  architecture  accord- 
ing to  Vignola  or  Palladio  ! What  heresy,  what  disregard  of  all  es- 
tablished rules,  not  to  place  a complete  entablature  on  his  columns  ! 
to  surmount  their  capitals  with  wooden  lintels  and  props  bearing  a 
wooden  roof  ! to  build  pilasters  against  the  backs  of  the  columns  ! 
Twenty-five  years  ago  the  basilica  of  Fano  would  have  passed  as  the 
work  of  the  Romantic  school  ; and  I think  I remember  that  when 
there  happened  to  be  occasion  to  mention  this  edifice,  professors 
would  drop  the  subject  and  sigh  as  one  might  do  when  contemplat- 
ing the  sad  errors  into  which  men  of  the  greatest  genius  sometimes 
fall.  But  what  are  we  to  do  when  we  find  that  the  only  special 
author  left  us  by  antiquity,  in  the  edifice  which  he  himself  con- 
structed and  the  only  one  of  which  he  left  a description,  abandoned 
the  rules  which  he  himself  had  laid  down,  and  which  afterward 
were  so  carefully  transcribed  in  the  books  of  the  Renaissance  archi- 
tects, who,  in  their  turn,  neglected  to  observe  them  in  practice  ? 
Does  it  result  from  this  that  architecture  is  an  art  whose  forms  are 
arbitrary  but  whose  principles  are  invariable?  Have  we  been  on 
the  wrong  track  for  the  last  two  centuries  in  adopting  certain  forms 
as  invariable,  as  the  final  expression  of  correct  taste,  and  in  neglect- 
ing to  concern  ourselves  about  those  principles  to  which  the  an- 
cients themselves,  from  whom  we  have  taken  the  forms,  attached 
the  greatest  importance  ? And  if  this  is  the  case,  were  not  the  archi- 
tects of  the  Middle  Ages,  who  were  so  faithful  to  their  principles  and 
so  free  in  their  adoption  of  forms,  much  nearer  the  spirit  of  antiquity 
than  was  the  great  classic  century  of  the  Renaissance  ? What  a 
shock  is  this  to  all  the  ideas  we  have  inherited  from  that  period  ! 
And  how  unfortunate  for  some  modern  architects  that  they  cannot 
claim  for  such  venerable  blunders  the  same  right  of  prescription  as 
gives  title  to  property  of  doubtful  tenure  by  virtue  of  long  usage  ! 

There  are  certain  points  in  the  description  by  Vitruvius  of  his 
basilica  of  Fano  which  merit  the  serious  study  of  all  those  who  do 
not  hold  absolutely  to  rules  laid  down  by  theorists  but  disregarded 
by  practitioners.  These  are  : the  position  of  the  chalcidicum  or  tri- 
bunal on  one  of  the  long  sides  ; the  single  interior  order  divided  by 


THE  BASILICA  OF  FANO. 


147 


the  gallery  floor  ; the  absence  of  a complete  entablature  ; the  support 
of  the  gallery  floor  and  its  roof  by  pilasters  against  the  backs  of  the 
columns  ; the  manner  in  which  the  capitals  rise  above  the  gallery 
roof,  and,  allowing  the  light  to  enter  between  them,  support  a wood- 
en architrave  with  dies  of  stone  and  all  the  timbers  of  an  open  roof. 
And  yet  Vitruvius,  rationalist  that  he  is,  and  in  the  face  of  all  our 
classical  rules,  says  that  he  adopted  these  dispositions  to  spare  trouble 
and  expense  ! Writing  in  the  midst  of  the  very  reign  of  Augustus, 
he  enters  a candid  protest  against  the  Roman  cornice.  The  doc- 
trines held  sacred  in  our  classical  schools  of  art  were,  therefore,  not 
in  vogue  in  the  classical  era.  Architecture  still  preserved  that  lib- 
erty, that  adaptability  to  all  the  uses  of  life,  which,  among  the  Greeks 
and  in  the  last  days  of  the  Roman  republic,  were  its  loveliest  fea- 
tures ; it  was  still  in  the  hands  of  artists,  and  had  not  yet  replaced 
art  by  formulas,  or  become  a mere  appendage  to  the  great  adminis- 
trative and  political  machine  of  the  Roman  empire. 

Plate  VIII.,  which  gives  the  plan,  and  Plate  IX.,  which  gives  the 
section  of  the  basilica  of  Pano,  are  drawn  faithfully  according  to  the 
definite  descriptions  and  dimensions  left  us  by  its  author. 

In  order  that  the  arrangement  of  the  pilasters  against  the  backs 
of  the  columns  may  be  understood,  the  reader  is  referred  to  Pig.  18. 

At  A is  the  base,  which  was  not  yet  laid  upon  that  square  plinth, 
which,  at  a later  period,  was  always  used  in  the  Ionic,  Corinthian, 
and  composite  orders  of  the  Romans.  At  B is  the  capital  of  the 
pilaster  supporting  the  floor  of  the  gallery,  with  the  notch  above  to 
receive  the  longitudinal  beam  C,  indicated  in  the  section  D.  E is 
the  upper  pilaster,  and  on  its  sides  are  the  mortise-holes  to  receive 
the  tenons  of  the  wooden  balustrade  P,  which  takes  the  place  of  the 
stone  screen,  which  was  used  in  basilicas  where  one  order  was  super- 
imposed on  another.  At  G is  the  capital  of  the  upper  pilaster,  des- 
tined to  support  the  wooden  plate  or  purlin  II  (see  section  D),  which 
acts  as  a ridge  for  the  rafters  of  the  lean-to  roof  K over  the  gallery. 
The  shaft  of  the  column  under  the  capital  is  grooved  to  allow  this 
purlin  to  pass  and  to  cover  the  ridge-tiles  of  terra-cotta  to  pre- 
vent leakage.  L represents  the  purlin  with  its  rafters,  covered  at 
first  with  flat  square  bricks  and  then  with  tiles,  M,  with  their 
cove-joints  and  ridge-tiles,  the  latter,  N N',  decorated  on  the  sides 
facing  the  interior.  The  capital,  B,  is  copied  from  one  of  the  beauti- 
ful capitals  of  the  age  of  Augustus  deposited  in  the  museum  of 


148 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


St.  John  Lateran.  0 is  the  triple  wooden  architrave  which  it 
supports. 

All  this  is  so  clear  in  the  text,  that  but  little  effort  is  needed  to 
explain  it  by  figures.  With  regard  to  the  system  of  carpentry 

adopted  in  the  roof,  it  must  be  admitted  that  Vitruvius  is  less 
explicit,  and  unfortunately  there  exist  no  antique  specimens  which 
we  can  use  as  examples.  Moreover,  the  disposition  of  the  plan  is 
such  as  singularly  to  complicate  the  construction.  Vitruvius  takes 
care  to  inform  us  that  he  suppressed  two  columns  in  front  of  the 
pronaos  or  entrance  of  the  temple  of  Augustus,  in  which  the  tribunal 
was  placed,  and  that  from  each  of  the  columns  left  on  either  side  he 
carried  the  wooden  architrave  at  right  angles  against  the  wall  so  as 
to  rest  on  the  opposite  pilaster  or  anta  of  the  pronaos.  He  further  tells 
us  that  the  principal  nave  returns  at  right  angles,  like  a transept, 
against  the  entrance  of  the  temple,  and  that  his  system  of  carpentry 
is  strengthened  by  tie-beams,  is  panelled  on  the  inside,  and  has  two 
water-sheds  or  slopes  on  the  outside  which  are  continued  at  right 
angles  over  the  pronaos.  The  basilica  is  very  wide  (fifty-eight  feet 
five  inches,  English  measure),  and  its  roof  would  therefore  require  a 
truss  at  least  over  each  opposite  pair  of  columns  across  the  nave  ; but 
diagonal  trusses  over  the  open  space  in  front  of  the  pronaos  would 
be  inadmissible,  not  only  on  account  of  their  disagreeable  appear- 
ance, but  by  reason  of  their  want  of  solidity.  Now  the  plan  traced 
by  Vitruvius  is  such  as,  according  to  the  ancient  custom  of  fram- 
ing, would  admit  of  but  one  system  in  the  support  of  the  roof,  and 
this,  as  I have  suggested,  must  consist  of  a series  of  trusses  extending 
across  the  .building  between  the  opposite  columns  of  the  nave,  the 
ends  of  the  two  trusses  opposite  the  pronaos  resting  on  the  tie-beams 
of  a double  truss  perpendicular  to  the  first  and  bearing  the  same  re- 
lation to  the  pronaos  or  transept  as  the  other  trusses  do  to  the  nave. 
These  tie-beams  should  be  prolongations  of  the  wall-plates,  which 
rest  on  the  blocks  over  the  columns  which  flank  the  pronaos  on 
either  side,  and  should  be  firmly  suspended  to  the  principal  rafters 
of  the  longitudinal  truss  by  hanging  ties  and  strongly  supported  by 
corbels.  1 have  endeavored  to  illustrate  this  singular  construction  in 
Plate  X.,  conforming  as  far  as  possible  to  the  principles  of  carpentry 
indicated  in  the  antique  paintings  of  Pompeii  and  in  the  bas-reliefs 
of  Trajan’s  column.  But  besides  these,  the  systems  of  timber  con- 
struction used  by  the  mediaeval  builders  are  a precious  assistance  to 


Fig.  18. 


THE  BASILICA  UNDER  THE  EMPIRE. 


149 


those  who  would  understand  the  systems  adopted  by  the  Romans. 
Of  all  the  methods  of  construction,  framing  certainly  has  adhered 
most  closely  to  ancient  traditions,  for  even  in  the  most  barbarous 
times  it  was  used  in  the  West,  and  the  Gauls,  even  in  the  time  of 
Cæsar,  were  regarded  as  very  skilful  in  this  art.  It  must  be  under- 
stood that  such  open  timber  roofs  as  are  indicated  in  Plate  N.  were 
covered  partly  by  panelled  work,  according  to  the  Roman  habit,  as  is 
indicated  in  the  drawing.  It  is  probable  that  the  ends  of  the  nave 
were  not  covered  by  hip  roofs,  which  would  have  complicated  the 
construction,  and  would  not  have  been  according  to  antique  usage, 
but  by  open  wooden  gables,  as  indicated  in  Plates  IX.  and  X. 

Prom  the  remains  of  the  ancient  basilicas,  and  from  the  description 
of  the  edifice  at  Fano,  we  are  justified  in  drawing  another  proof  of  the 
great  liberty  enjoyed  by  architects  in  the  time  of  Augustus  in  the 
construction  of  these  public  monuments. 

The  Greek  monuments  of  the  basilica  type,  though  few  in  number, 
present  certain  singular  dispositions  which  were  not  imitated  by  the 
Romans.  Thus,  the  basilica  of  Pæstum  and  that  of  Thoricus  have 
a spine  of  columns  on  the  main  axis,  affording  two  central  aisles  or 
interior  ambulatories  besides  the  outer  aisles.  These  edifices  re- 
semble rather  open  markets  than  the  closed  basilicas  of  the  Romans, 
from  which  they  also  differed  in  having  no  place  for  the  tribunal. 
Now  the  Romans  under  the  empire  hastened  to  give  their  basilicas 
the  same  degree  of  magnificence  that  distinguished  all  their  other 
public  monuments.  The  basilica  situated  on  the  forum  of  Trajan, 
built  at  Rome  by  a celebrated  architect,  Apollodorus  of  Damas,  was 
a monument  as  remarkable  for  its  great  size  as  for  the  richness  of  its 
decorations.  This  basilica,  whose  remains  may  still  be  seen,  and 
whose  exterior  facades  are  given  to  us  on  certain  ancient  medals, 
was  composed  of  a nave  and  two  aisles  on  each  side,  bearing  the 
galleries  on  the  first  story.  The  tribunal  was  a vast  semicircle  whose 
diameter  was  equal  to  the  whole  width  of  the  nave  and  aisles 
together,  and  the  aisles  as  well  as  the  galleries  were  continued  in 
front  of  it.  A single  entrance,  with  a portico  and  vestibule,  Avas 
opened  at  the  opposite  extremity  to  the  tribunal,  and  three  entrances 
on  the  south  opened  on  the  forum  of  Trajan.  In  a little  court  ex- 
tending along  the  face  of  the  basilica  opposite  the  forum  was  the 
celebrated  column  erected  by  the  senate  and  the  people  of  Rome 
in  honor  of  that  prince.  Upon  this  court  opened  two  libraries  for 


150 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Greek  and  Latin  books,  communicating  with  the  basilica  by  two 
doors  at  either  extremity  of  the  north  Avail.  The  brick  walls  of 
the  basilica  were  covered,  at  least  in  their  lower  parts,  with  a thick 
hieing  of  white  marble.  The  interior  columns  were  of  gray  granite, 
with  Corinthian  capitals  and  bases  of  white  marble.  The  ceiling 
was  composed  of  plates  of  gilded  bronze.  The  three  principal 
southern  porches  on  the  forum  were,  according  to  ancient  medals, 
crowned  by  four-horse  chariots  and  statues.  The  pavement,  still 
visible,  was  composed  of  great  slabs  of  antique  yellow  and  violet 
marble.  It  is  certain  that  this  structure  was  not  vaulted,  but  was 
covered  with  a wooden  roof. 

It  is  a question  whether  the  tribunal  was  covered,  and  if  by  a 
vault,  composed  of  the  quarter  of  a hollow  sphere,  how  this  vault 
accommodated  itself  to  the  galleries  and  the  Avails  Avliich  they  sus- 
tained. The  commonly  received  forms  of  the  basilica  seem  to  con- 
flict with  that  great  half-circle  Avhich  occupied  almost  the  entire 
Avidth  of  the  nave  and  aisles.  It  does  not  seem  possible  to  construct 
such  an  arrangement,  unless  the  interval  between  the  naves  and  the 
tribunal  Avas  open  to  the  sky.  HoAvever  Ave  may  suppose  the  basil- 
ica and  its  Avooden  roof  were  constructed,  Ave  can  form  no  plausible 
theory  regarding  the  manner  in  which  the  latter  could  abut  against 
the  vault  over  the  tribunal. 

As  I desire  to  abstain  from  mere  hypotheses,  I do  not  propose  to 
discuss  this  question,  and  I only  cite  this  example  to  sIioav  how,  in 
certain  cases,  the  Romans  varied  their  conceptions,  Avithout  failing  to 
observe  meamvhile  the  general  conditions  of  the  problem  as  imposed 
by  their  social  state.  An  explanation  of  the  difficulties  to  which  Ave 
have  referred  concerning  the  structure  of  the  basilica  of  the  forum 
of  Trajan  can  perhaps  he  found  by  comparing  the  Persian  palaces, 
which  always  have  at  one  end  of  their  porticoed  courts  a semicir- 
cular projection  relatively  of  great  dimensions,  and  covered  by  a 
vault  composed  of  the  quarter  of  a sphere.  It  is  Avell  known  that 
the  modern  East  has  preserved  many  Roman  traditions  in  its  struc- 
tures ; and  even  at  the  present  day  many  edifices,  like  mosques,  or 
bazaars,  or  the  Palais-Royal  at  Paris,  resemble  the  Roman  basilicas, 
not  only  in  the  multiplicity  of  the  uses  to  Avhich  they  are  devoted, 
hut  in  their  interior  richness.  Such  edifices  are  apt  to  OAve  their 
existence  to  the  vanity  of  sovereigns  Avho  have  desired  to  attach  their 
names  to  durable  and  splendid  public  works  designed  to  attract 


DOMESTIC  ARCHITECTURE  OF  THE  ROMANS. 


151 


crowds  and  to  bring  the  people  together.  Certainly  this  class  of 
buildings  did  not  first  arise  in  a republic.  Whatever  was  the  na- 
ture of  the  Greek  basilica,  it  is  essential  to  establish  a distinction 
between  this  and  that  of  the  Romans.  I have  already  remarked 
that,  as  regards  architectural  composition,  the  Romans  really  took 
from  the  Greeks  only  that  of  their  temples  ; but  all  other  buildings 
belonging  to  the  public  service,  all  civil  structures,  originated  with 
them  ; they  created  and  modified  their  plans  according  to  their 
needs,  and  their  basilicas,  being  destined  for  different  uses  and  these 
uses  severally  varying  in  importance  according  to  time  and  place, 
were  subject  to  a corresponding  variety  of  treatment.  But  we  must 
not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  the  essential  architectural  characteris- 
tics, the  types  of  the  public  monuments  of  the  empire,  remained 
unchanged  from  the  time  of  Augustus.  Yet  a principle,  however 
absolute  it  may  be,  must,  in  application,  assume  various  forms,  as  was 
afterwards  signally  proved  in  the  cathedrals  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

But  our  art  is  concerned  not  only  with  public  works.  If  we  have 
but  a vague  idea  of  the  domestic  architecture  of  the  Greeks,  that 
of  the  Romans  is  sufficiently  familiar  to  us  to  prove  that  here  also 
there  is  a wide  field  open  for  our  instruction. 

It  cannot  be  too  often  repeated  that,  during  all  epochs  of  known 
history,  an  intimate  relation  has  existed  between  the  manners,  cus- 
toms, laws,  and  religion  of  nations,  and  their  arts.  Posterity  must 
judge  whether  our  epoch  is  an  exception  to  this  rule  ; but  it  is  cer- 
tain that,  during  that  period  of  Roman  antiquity,  for  example,  com- 
prised between  the  end  of  the  republic  and  the  fall  of  the  empire, 
architecture  closely  followed  the  various  movements  of  Roman  soci- 
ety. In  the  Fourth  Discourse  we  dwelt  on  the  methods  pursued  by 
architects  during  the  imperial  period,  because  it  was  only  at  that 
time  that  the  arts  of  Rome  were  truly  Roman  ; yet  how  interesting  is 
the  study  of  the  relations  between  the  national  arts  and  manners 
toward  the  end  of  the  republic  ! How  charming  that  transitional 
architecture,  which,  no  longer  Greek,  was  hardly  yet  imperial  ! For- 
tunate era  for  the  arts,  when  a Cicero,  a Lucullus,  a Servius  Claudi- 
us, a Sallust,  lived  to  make  it  illustrious  ! Without  doubt,  the  house 
of  Cicero  at  Tusculum  Avas  but  a modest  dAvelling  compared  with 
the  magnificent  villas  of  the  emperors  and  their  favorites  ; yet  what  a 
delicious  perfume  of  art  lingers  around  those  beloved  w<H Is  of  the  last 
citizen  of  the  republic  ! What  treasures  of  elegance,  what  charming 


152 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


ideas  of  household  comforts,  are  suggested  in  those  letters  of  his,  in 
which,  with  refined  taste,  he  expressed  his  interest  regarding  the  em- 
bellishment of  his  villa  ! lie  concerned  himself  little  about  costly 
marbles  and  paintings,  nor  did  he  speak  of  his  country-seat  with  the 
ostentation  of  the  man  of  wealth  who  desires  luxury  only  that  he  may 
outshine  his  neighbors  ; but  he  had  much  to  say  of  his  homelike 
comforts,  of  the  advantages  of  his  situation,  and  of  the  collections  of 
objects  of  art  which  he  had  arranged  about  him  with  affectionate 
zeal.  Though  quite  as  much  a Greek  as  a Roman,  he  did  not  argue 
about  forms  or  styles  of  art  ; yet  it  is  evident  that  he  had  a nice 
appreciation.  As  an  evidence  of  the  confidence  he  reposed  in  his 
architect  and  the  respect  he  had  for  the  decisions  of  the  artist  to 
whom  he  confided  the  building  of  his  villa,  it  is  interesting  to  read 
what  he  said  in  one  of  his  friendly  letters  to  Atticus  : “ Now,  if 
my  friends  fancy  that  my  windows  are  too  narrow,  Cyrus,  my  archi- 
tect, is  ready  to  meet  the  objection,  and  will  at  once  explain  how 
large  windows  opening  on  a garden  do  not  offer  to  the  eye  so  agree- 
able a perspective  as  narrower  windows.  You  can  imagine  his  argu- 
ment : Let  A,  he  will  say,  be  the  eye  which  sees,  13  and  C the  object 
seen,  D and  E the  rays  which  pass  from  the  eye  to  the  object,  and  so 
on.”  This  unfinished  demonstration  is  quite  Greek  in  character,  and 
it  is  evident  that  Cicero  only  repeated  here  the  remark  of  his  archi- 
tect, who  was  probably  a Greek,  and  whose  argument  seemed  to 
have  interested  him  but  little.  He  added,  further  on,  after  an  epi- 
gram addressed  to  the  Epicureans  (to  which  sect  Atticus  belonged)  : 
“ If  you  find  anything  else  in  my  house  to  criticise,  I shall  always  be 
supplied  with  reasons  quite  as  good  to  give  you  in  reply,  unless,  in- 
deed, I can  remedy  the  difficulty  at  a small  expense.”  It  would  not 
be  easy  to  cite  a passage  explaining  in  a more  natural  way  the  char- 
acter of  the  relations  existing  between  the  first  Roman  citizen  of  the 
republic,  a man  of  pure  taste  and  refined  mind,  and  his  architect. 
It  is  evident  that  the  most  polite  Romans  of  that  time  were  passion- 
ately fond  of  the  arts  ; but  as  they  were  wise  enough  to  understand 
that  in  this  respect  the  Greeks  were  their  masters,  they  believed  that 
they  could  not  do  better  than 'refer  all  questions  on  the  subject  to 
them.  Thus  Cicero  wrote  to  his  friend,  who  was  living  in  Greece, 
to  buy  some  statues  for  him  there,  and  to  take  care  that  they  arrived 
in  good  condition. 

It  is,  indeed,  unfortunate  that  we  have  so  few  remains  left  from 


RELATIONS  BETWEEN  SOCIETY  AND  ARCHITECTURE.  1 53 


this  interesting  epoch  of  transition,  when  the  Greek  arts  were  asso- 
ciated with  the  daily  routine  of  Roman  life.  The  architectural  „ 
works  of  this  period  must  have  been  distinguished  for  that  elegance 
which  is  so  much  better  than  richness,  and  for  that  freedom  of  de- . 
sign  of  which  we  find  some  traces  in  the  description  of  the  basilica 
of  Fa  no,  but  which,  under  the*  emperors,  disappeared  entirely.  Such 
would  be  the  natural  architectural  expression  of  the  state  of  society 
at  the  close  of  the  republic,  — a society  full  of  contrasts,  very  civil- 
ized, very  elegant,  and  still  retaining  that  moral  independence  of 
which  we  can  find  no  evidence  in  the  structures  of  a later  age.  In 
the  absence  of  authentic  architectural  remains  belonging  to  a period 
whose  social  state  so  nearly  resembled  our  own,  but  whose  intel- 
lectual condition,  it  must  be  admitted,  was  superior,  the  careful  study 
of  that  social  state  would  be  fruitful  in  suggestions  and  resources 
for  the  architect.  A comparison  of  our  own  national  character  and 
history  with  those  of  the  last  days  of  the  Roman  republic,  together 
with  a study  of  the  few  architectural  fragments  which  remain  to  us 
from  that  period,  would  perhaps  develop  the  means  of  rescuing  our 
arts  from  the  mire  in  which  they  seem  to  be  stuck.  But,  to  arrive 
at  such  a result,  we  must  have  the  courage  to  admit  that  our  present 
methods  of  architectural  education  are  incomplete,  that  the  learned 
antiquaries  who  talk  or  write  about  architecture  are  not  architects, 
and  that  the  architects  themselves  are  not  sufficiently  familiar  with 
the  history  and  customs  of  antiquity  or  of  the  Middle  Ages.  If  we 
knew  what  we  are  and  what  we  have  a right  to  demand  of  the  times 
in  which  we  live,  we  might  perhaps  develop  an  art  of  our  own. 

The  great  advantage  to  be  obtained  by  the  student  of  architecture 
from  the  study  of  antiquity  is  the  elevation  of  his  mind.  In  order  to 
obtain  this  result  his  observation,  unlike  that  of  his  predecessors  for 
the  last  two  hundred  years,  must  extend  beneath  the  mere  superficial 
forms  of  the  art  and  penetrate  to  those  things  of  which  they  are  but 
the  natural  expression.  He  must  mix  with  Grecian  and  Roman 
society,  Roman  especially,  so  grand,  so  solidly  established,  notwith- 
standing its  manifest  errors  and  abuses  ; he  must  not  only  enter  the 
Roman  house,  but  he  must  know  him  who  inhabits  it,  must  appre- 
ciate his  tastes  and  live  his  life,  so  that  he  may  comprehend  the  per- 
fect harmony  existing  between  the  man  and  his  habitation.  At  the 
present  day,  when  such  harmony  does  not  exist,  when  all  the  mem- 
bers of  society  make  it  their  business  to  move  out  of  their  respective 


154 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


spheres,  and  to  place  their  real  and  their  apparent  existence  in 
contradiction,  the  task  of  the  architect  becomes  more  and  more 
difficult;  for  it  does  not  belong  to  him  to  set  himself  up  as  a 
moralist  to  preach  social  reform,  and,  still  less,  to  be  the  mere 
agent  of  a sort  of  sumptuary  police.  Yet  the  elevation  of  the 
architectural  character,  the  exact  knowledge  of  civilized  societies, 
the  good  examples  and  good  arguments  supplied  to  the  architect 
out  of  this  knowledge,  would  have  more  iiffiuence  in  giving  to 
him  the  professional  authority  which  he  should  exercise  than  at 
first  seems  credible  ; it  is  not  by  passing  a few  years  at  Rome  or 
Athens,  by  restoring  for  the  thousandth  time  the  theatre  of  Mar- 
cellos, the  portico  of  Octavius  or  the  Parthenon,  it  is  not  by  elabo- 
rating in  his  room  at  the  French  Academy  of  Rome  an  india-ink 
drawing  of  the  end  of  an  entablature  or  a capital,  that  the  archi- 
tectural student,  returned  to  France,  is  enabled  to  exercise  any 
influence  over  the  mind  of  a capricious  or  indecisive  client,  and 
to  rest  his  advice  upon  such  simple  and  solid  reasons,  that  the 
client  must  in  the  end  be  persuaded  and  submit. 

In  glancing  at  the  public  monuments  of  the  Romans,  we  have 
been  enabled  to  appreciate,  without  prejudice  in  respect  to  form  or 
stvle,  how  largely  and  scrupulously  their  great  architectural  require- 
ments were  met  ; how  the  thing  containing  explained  the  thing 
contained  ; how  the  methods  and  means  of  construction  in  every 
case  were  exactly  such  as  the  state  of  society  at  the  time  and  place 
was  best  capable  of  supplying  ; how,  in  the  best  periods,  luxury  and 
richness  of  decoration  never  fell  into  mere  fastidiousness,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  participated  in  that  truly  Roman  grandeur  which  was  with- 
out pompousness  or  affectation.  But  when  we  descend  to  examine 
into  the  private  life  of  the  Roman  citizen  and  see  him  in  his  home, 
we  behold  a singular  contrast.  If  he  was  rich  enough  to  build  a 
theatre,  a portico,  or  public  baths,  he  adopted  the  official  architec- 
ture, as  it  were,  — that  which  belonged  to  the  public  ; but  if  he 
built  for  himself  or  his  family,  he  never  sought  to  surprise  or  dazzle 
the  multitude  by  any  outside  show,  but  contented  himself  with  the 
indulgence  of  his  personal  tastes  within,  and  built  an  agreeable  home 
for  himself  and  his  dependants.  Such,  at  least,  was  the  custom  of 
the  Roman  citizen  at  the  close  of  the  republic.  At  a later  day, 
vanity  and  ostentation  modified  the  tendency  of  the  Roman  in  this 
respect  ; but  at  this  time  antique  society  was  evidently  declining  to 


ROMAN  DOMESTIC  ARCHITECTURE. 


155 


its  fall.  The  private  houses  of  Pompeii,  from  the  richest  and  greatest 
to  the  most  humble,  all  preserved  an  exterior  appearance  of  uniform 
simplicity,  and  all  used  the  same  methods  of  construction  and  the 
same  materials.  These  peculiarities  we  find  still  in  vogue  in  all  the 
cities  of  the  East.  If  the  Roman  citizen  was  wealthy  and  was 
enabled  to  construct  apartments  furnished  with  statues  and  paintings, 
he  took  care  to  keep  his  magnificence  for  his  own  use,  and  avoided 
exciting  the  envy  of  those  outside  of  his  house.  These  were  the 
natural  habits  of  a republic  ; and  a citizen  who  may  have  spent 
many  millions  of  sesterces  from  his  private  purse  to  build  an  aque- 
duct or  a circus  for  his  native  city,  would  inhabit  a mansion  which, 
to  all  external  appearances,  was  no  better  than  that  of  his  poor 
neighbor.  It  seems  likely  that  this  custom  of  concealing  from  the 
public  the  interior  richness  of  private  houses  contributed  to  develop 
among  the  Romans  that  love  for  their  villas,  where,  at  least,  they 
could  unrestrainedly  indulge  in  their  taste  for  luxury  and  comfort 
without  fear  of  the  criticisms  of  the  public  or  their  neighbors.  We 
find  indications  of  the  existence  of  this  envious  feeling  at  Rome, 
when  the  party  of  Clodius,  having  successfully  intrigued  to  banish 
Cicero  from  the  city,  sacked  and  destroyed  all  his  private  houses 
as  soon  as  he  had  gone.  It  was  in  view  of  such  acts  of  violence 
from  the  mob,  that  the  wealthy  Romans,  establishing  their  house- 
holds in  a city  so  often  disturbed  by  factions,  carefully  concealed 
from  the  outer  world  their  interior  pomp  and  luxury.  Among  the 
Romans,  therefore,  the  requirements  of  the  private  house  differed 
from  those  of  the  public  building,  not  only  in  regard  to  the  ne- 
cessary variations  in  the  arrangement  and  size  of  rooms,  etc.,  but 
in  a respect  with  which  art  was  more  particularly  concerned.  If 
the  Roman  considered  that  he  could  never  do  too  much  to  emphasize 
the  exterior  grandeur  and  importance  of  the  public  monument,  he 
found  it  necessary  to  disguise  the  splendors  of  his  household  from 
the  passers-by.  This  enables  us  to  comprehend  the  essential  dif- 
ference between  the  appearance  of  a Roman  and  that  of  a modern 
city,  and  how,  in  the  former,  the  apparent  simplicity  of  the  habi- 
tations exaggerated  by  contrast  the  magnificence  of  the  forums,  the 
temples,  and  the  theatres.  Evidently  such  contrasts,  while  increasing 
the  picturesqueness  of  a city,  had  their  infiuence  on  the  minds  of  its 
inhabitants.  The  sense  of  sight  has  its  habits  like  the  other  senses, 
and  it  is  reasonable  to  assume  that  the  effect  produced  by  public 


15G 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


* edifices  of  great  exterior  magnificence,  situated  in  the  midst  of  the 
simple  lines  and  the  grave,  close  walls  of  uniform  houses,  was  of  a 
nature  to  elevate  the  mind  to  a better  appreciation  of  works  of  art. 

The  Romans  spent  the  greater  part  of  their  time  in  public.  In 
the  morning  the  considerable  citizens  received  their  dependants,  who 
at  that  time  were  accustomed  to  attend  the  levee  of  their  patron,  in 
the  hall  {atrium)  of  his  house.  They  formed  his  suite  when  he 
walked  abroad  ; for  among  the  patricians  of  the  republic,  to  be 
accompanied  by  a great  number  of  retainers  was  a means  of  obtain- 
ing influence  in  public  affairs.  Thus  he  proceeded  to  the  forum, 
or  promenaded  under  some  one  of  those  vast  porticos  which,  at 
various  parts  of  the  city,  served  as  exchanges  and  places  of  ren- 
dezvous ; here  he  gave  himself  up  to  those  public  occupations  which 
were  almost  incessant  in  the  life  of  the  Roman  citizen.  Then,  after 
attending  the  baths  or  the  sports  of  the  circus  or  amphitheatre,, 
in  the  evening  he  would  retire  to  his  home.  At  this  hour  the  house 
was  closed  to  all  but  his  most  intimate  friends,  for  whom  the  interior 
luxury  of  the  establishment  was  reserved.  The  apartments  of  the 
Roman  house  were  always  small,  and  opened  on  courts  and  interior 
porticos,  so  that  no  prying  eye  from  without  could  penetrate  the 
privacy  of  the  household.  The  architecture  was  exactly  fitted  to 
these  conditions.  It  cannot  be  a matter  of  surprise  that  the  men, 
who,  at  Rome,  by  their  birth,  fortune,  or  position,  were  obliged  to 
participate  in  all  the  intrigues  of  parties  striving  for  power,  often 
yearned  to  enjoy  the  tranquillity  of  country  life.  Indeed,  the  love 
for  the  country  was  a particular  Roman  trait  ; it  was  general  in  the 
time  of  the  republic,  and  under  the  early  empire  it  became  almost  a 
passion.  No  notable  citizen  of  Rome  could  escape,  while  in  public, 
from  the  importunities  of  his  friends,  his  dependants,  his  partisans, 
or  his  rivals  ; he  could  not  live  an  indifferent  spectator  in  the  midst 
of  the  perpetual  movement  of  factions  ; if  he  would  enjoy  repose,  he 
was  obliged  to  shut  himself  up  in  his  house.  Men  like  Cicero,  for 
example,  whose  minds  and  lives  were  occupied  by  those  two  conflict- 
ing passions,  love  of  study  and  love  of  power,  from  time  to  time  felt 
the  necessity  of  obtaining  mental  repose  by  flying  from  the  turmoil 
and  bustle  of  Rome  to  the  grateful  tranquillity  and  independence  of 
their  villas  ; here  it  is,  therefore,  that  the  true  character  of  the  do- 
mestic architecture  of  the  Romans  must  be  sought. 

I do  not  understand  how  it  is  that  the  idea  of  symmetry,  ever  since 


ROMAN  VILLAS. 


157 


the  sixteenth  century,  has  become  so  closely  associated  with  the 
domestic  architecture  of  the  classic  period,  for  I have  been  able  to 
find  no  trace  of  it  either  in  the  houses  themselves  or  in  the  ancient 
writings  which  refer  to  them.  At  Pompeii  there  is  not  a single 
mansion  whose  plan  or  elevations  have  been  submitted  to  its  rules. 
Cicero  and  Pliny  have  much  to  say,  in  their  letters,  about  the  aspect 
and  particular  disposition  of  every  apartment  of  their  country-seats  ; 
but  of  symmetry  not  a word.  In  fact,  these  houses  were  an  accumu- 
lation of  rooms,  porticos,  chambers,  galleries,  etc.,  whose  relative  po- 
sitions and  character  were  regulated  by  considerations  of  light,  wind, 
sun,  shade,  and  prospect,  all  of  which  exclude  symmetry.  The  de- 
tailed description  by  Pliny  of  his  Laurentine  villa,  in  his  letter  to 
his  friend  Callus,  is,  in  this  respect,  extremely  curious.  This  letter 
is  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  true  practical  spirit  of  the  Roman  : 
of  decoration,  mosaics,  marbles,  or  paintings  he  had  not  a word  to 
say  ; but  he  everywhere  insisted  on  the  prospect,  the  aspect  of  the 
different  apartments  with  regard  to  the  points  of  the  compass,  their 
peculiar  arrangement,  the  coolness  of  some,  the  soft  temperature  of 
others,  the  various  views  which  he  enjoyed  seaward  and  landward, 
the  sweet  tranquillity  of  the  rooms  set  aside  for  study  and  medita- 
tion, the  accommodation  and  neatness  of  his  servants,  his  waters  and 
his  gardens.  He  spoke  neither  of  orders,  wainscots,  nor  cornices. 
No  line  of  this  charming  letter  betrays  the  slightest  spark  of  vanity, 
lie  loved  his  country-seat,  he  had  arranged  it  according  to  his  taste 
and  was  pleased  with  it  ; it  must  have  been,  in  respect  to  elegance 
and  refinement,  all  that  might  be  expected  from  and  befitting  a 
Roman  gentleman  and  scholar  and  a man  of  the  world  ; yet  when 
at  home  or  in  his  communications  with  his  friend  he  showed  no  trace 
of  foolish  pride.  If  it  is  proper  for  us  to  borrow  anything  from  the 
Romans,  should  it  not  be  this  wholesome  spirit,  this  true  elegance, 
this  judicious  love  of  moral  and  physical  well-being,  rather  than  those 
conventional  formulas  of  style  made  fashionable  in  the  puffed-up  and 
pompous  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  since  then  accepted  as  the  regen- 
erated traditions  of  antiquity?  Those  who  really  love  and  admire 
antiquity,  who  seize  with  avidity  the  least  expressions  of  polite 
Roman  society,  who  appreciate  its  refinement  and  its  strong  com- 
mon-sense, must  indignantly  repel  these  false  interpretations  of  its 
arts.  Ror  my  own  part,  1 confess  that  I do  ; the  adulterated  an- 
tiquity in  which  we  are  steeped  offends  me,  as  would  a head  of 


158 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


caricature  by  Coustou  or  Coysevox  on  the  torso  of  the  Venus  of  Milo. 
Is  it  not  indeed  a dangerous  error  to  attribute  to  ancient  art  such 
ridiculous  and  absolute  laws  as  those  of  symmetry  and  of  the  indis- 
criminate application  of  fixed  academical  orders,  the  shelter  and  pro- 
tection of  modern  ignorance  and  mediocrity,  whereas,  in  the  works 
of  antiquity,  there  is  one  dominating  principle,  the  frank  and  hon- 
est acknowledgment  of  practical  requirements  in  each  case,  varied 
in  the  expression  by  the  wise  liberty  of  common-sense  and  good  taste, 
or,  in  short,  the  habit  of  reasoning  applied  to  the  sentiment  of  art? 

I believe  that  Horace  would  have  made  a wry  face  at  the  château 
of  Versailles,  if  told  that  these  immense  symmetrical  barracks,  (and 
why  symmetrical  ?)  pierced  with  ranges  of  windows  and  decorated 
with  columns  and  pilasters,  were  the  villa  of  a sovereign.  We  ad- 
mire and  study  the  antique  ; you  may  admire,  and  study,  if  you 
wish,  the  architecture  of  the  great  Louis  ; but  do  not  confound  works 
which  are  not  only  dissimilar  but  diametrically  opposed  both  in  prin- 
ciple and  in  expression  ; above  all,  do  not  pretend  that  the  works  of 
that  reign  were  inspired  by  those  of  antiquity.  You  might  as  well 
undertake  to  prove  that  Puget  sought  his  types  in  Ægina.  It  was 
no  crime  in  the  architects  of  Louis  XIV.,  that  they  believed  and 
honestly  said  that  they  followed  in  the  traces  of  the  ancients,  for  we 
owe  respect  even  to  the  illusions  of  the  past  ; but  we  have  no  right 
to  go  on  repeating  such  an  absurdity,  by  hereditary  transmission,  in 
our  words  and  works. 

The  consul  Pliny  had  not  only  his  villa  at  Ostium  on  the  sea- 
shore, but  a very  beautiful  country-seat  in  Tuscany,  surrounded  by 
delicious  gardens  ; he  described  it  to  his  friend  Apollinarius.  Each 
of  these  two  establishments  had  its  peculiarities,  differing  from  the 
other  bv  reason  of  the  different  climate,  site,  aspect,  views,  waters, 
and  habits  of  the  country.  Yet,  whether  on  the  shore  of  Ostium  or 
on  the  slope  of  the  Tuscan  Apennines,  it  Avas  still  a Roman  house, 
with  its  numerous  offices  and  dependencies,  its  porches,  its  eastern 
rooms,  its  baths,  studies,  guest-chambers,  playground,  gymnasium, 
saloons,  summer  and  winter  apartments,  and  lodgings  for  dependants 
and  si  aves.  All  these  different  rooms  Avere  placed,  not  with  a vieAv 
of  carrying  out  an  academic  plan,  but  according  to  the  taste  of  the 
owner  and  to  accommodate  his  daily  habits. 

We  have  seen  the  Roman,  in  his  public  monuments,  submitting 
to  the  laAVS  of  symmetry  ; here  he  maintained  his  dignity,  he  Avas 


BOM  AN  COMMON-SENSE  IN  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


159 


a magistrate,  he  built  for  the  public,  and,  in  doing  so,  recognized 
that  symmetry  was  a powerful  agent  to  display  his  grandeur  to  the 
multitude  ; but,  at  home,  he  laid  aside  his  official  character,  he 
built  to  please  himself.  In  these  apartments  he  courted  the  sun,  in 
those  he  studiously  avoided  it  ; he  availed  himself  of  every  advantage 
of  his  site  ; he  required  comfort,  and  never  allowed  himself  to  be 
guided  by  vanity  like  that  of  the  modern  lord  of  the  manor,  whose 
first  wish  is  that  his  mansion  shall  represent  a correct  architectural 
composition,  even  if  to  attain  this  end  he  must  sacrifice  his  domes- 
tic ease.  The  Roman  in  his  country-seat,  with  a rare  sagacity  and  a 
delicate  taste,  yielded  everything  to  the  accommodation  of  his  mate- 
rial and  intellectual  needs  ; he  required  provision  for  the  bodily  health 
and  comfort  of  himself  and  family  ; and  lie  needed  a library,  quiet 
apartments  for  study,  such  as  would  give  him  facilities  for  that  recu- 
peration essential  to  every  mind  which  would  be  kept  whole  and 
sound  ; he  must  have  his  gymnasium  for  the  mind  as  well  as  for  the 
body.  Interior  luxury  and  splendor  had  their  place  in  his  house, 
but  he  never  sacrificed  to  these  the  arrangements  necessary  to  his 
comfort.  In  short,  he  knew  how  to  be  a private  citizen  as  he  knew 
how  to  be  a public  man  ; rarely  suffering  himself  to  be  led  astray 
either  by  an  unreasonable  love  of  luxury,  or  by  an  undue  exercise  of 
power. 

I ask,  then,  nothing  better  than  that  we  shall  be  Romans, — not 
Romans  with  periwigs  and  high-heeled  shoes  in  the  style 'of  Louis 
XIV.  ; but  Romans,  in  our  knowledge  of  the  true  requirements  of 
life,  in  our  plain  and  straightforward  good  sense,  in  our  practical 
philosophy,  in  our  way  of  loving  the  arts  like  sensible  men  rather 
than  like  amateurs  or  dilettanti,  in  avoiding  such  follies  as  ranging 
columns  in  file  without  knowing  why,  and  lodging  ourselves  in 
palaces  magnificent  for  those  without,  but  uncomfortable,  sombre, 
ridiculous,  and  full  of  hidden  miseries  for  those  within.  It  must  be 
confessed  that  the  château  and  the  manor-house  of  the  Middle  Ages 
resemble  the  villa  and  the  Roman  house  much  more  closely  than  do 
the  mansions  of  the  last  two  centuries,  for  the  men  who  built  those 
châteaux  and  manor-houses  first  required  to  be  lodged  agreeably, 
wholesomely,  and  strongly,  and  troubled  themselves  little  whether 
one  wing  of  their  house  was  shorter  or  longer  than  the  other,  or 
whether  the  flanking  range  of  offices  on  one  side  was  higher  or 
lower  than  that  on  the  other. 


1G0 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Let  us  endeavor  to  form  an  idea  of  that  residence  so  dear  to  Pliny 
the  consul,  his  Laurentine  villa'.  It  was  but  seventeen  miles  from 
Rome,  on  the  sea-shore,  near  the  little  town  of  Latium.  “ It  is  large 
enough,”  said  the  consul  to  his  friend  Gallns,  “ to  afford  all  desirable 
accommodation,  without  being  extensive.  First,  there  is  a vestibule 
(atrium),  simple  but  not  mean  ; thence  you  proceed  to  a small  but 
pleasant  court,  shaped  like  the  letter  I),  surrounded  by  a portico  or 
gallery,  which,  as  it  is  covered  with  a transparent  roof  and  above  that 
is  protected  by  the  projection  of  the  main  roofs,  affords  a commo- 
dious retreat  in  bad  weather.  From  this  second  court  you  enter  a 
third,  from  which  opens  the  banqueting-room,  which  extends  out 
over  the  sea  in  such  a manner  that  when  the  African  wind  (the 
southwest)  blows,  the  base  of  its  Avails  is  gently  lapped  by  the  Avaves. 
This  room  is  pierced  on  all  sides  Avith  doors,  and  Avith  Avindows  as 
large  as  doors,  so  that  on  the  three  outer  sides  you  have  as  many 
views  of  the  sea,  and  on  the  inner  side  you  command  a vista  of  the 
principal  court  Avith  its  portico,  the  little  round  court,  then  the  vesti- 
bule, and  beyond,  in  the  distance,  the  woods  and  mountains.  On 
the  left  of  this  room  is  a large  retired  apartment,  and  beyond  this  an- 
other smaller  one  so  disposed  as  to  receive  light  from  the  east  on  one 
side  and  from  the  Avest  on  the  other.  The  latter  side  commands  a 
quiet  vieAV  of  the  sea,  Avhich  at  this  point  is  farther  off'  than  it  is  as 
seen  from  the  banqueting-room.  Outside,  betAveen  the  bauqueting- 
room  and  the  apartments  I have  just  described,  the  building  forms  a 
re-entering  angle,  which,  as  it  retains  and  increases  the  heat  of  the 
sun,  is  very  agreeable  in  Avinter,  and  serves  as  a gymnasium  for  my 
people  in  that  season.  This  place  is  protected  from  all  winds  except 
those  Avhich  accompany  mists  and  stormy  weather.  To  the  apart- 
ment of  which  I have  just  spoken  is  added  another,  which  projects  in 
the  form  of  the  segment  of  a circle  in  such  a manner  that  the  sun 
shines  through  its  windoAvs  all  day  long.  In  this  room,  in  the  thick- 
ness of  the  Avails,  are  cases  forming  a sort  of  library,  filled  Avith  choice 
books,  — an  unfailing  source  of  recreation  and  instruction.  A bed- 
chamber is  separated  from  this  apartment  by  a passage  Avainscoted 
with  Avood  and  so  arranged  as  to  communicate  the  heat  from  one 
room  to  the  other.  All  the  rest  of  the  rooms  on  this  side  are  re- 
served for  the  use  of  my  freedmen  and  slaves,  but  they  are  neat 
enough  for  guests.” 

Pliny  then  goes  on  to  describe  in  detail  the  range  of  apartments 


TIIE  LAURENTINE  VILLA  OE  PLINY. 


1G1 


on  the  other  side  of  his  villa,  including  a small  dining-room,  and  be- 
yond, baths,  with  the  usual  arrangements  of  a frigidarium,  a furnace, 
a room  reserved  for  perfumes,  a warm  chamber,  and  a hot  bath,  the 
latter  having  a view  towards  the  sea*.  Then  he  speaks  of  a tennis 
court  ( spheristerium ) not  far  off'  from  the  baths,  having  an  exposure 
towards  the  sun  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  Romans  engaged  in  their 
games  and  exercises,  and  of  two  pavilions  or  casinos,  close  by  this 
court,  of  two  stories  each,  with  flat  roofs,  commanding  a tine  extent 
of  the  sea  with  the  villas  along  its  shores,  and  also  of  his  own  gar- 
den, planted  with  box,  rosemary,  fig-trees,  mulberries,  and  crossed  by 
arbors  of  vine.  On  this  garden,  according  to  his  description,  opened 
another  dining-room,  with  adjoining  apartments,  and  a long  gallery 
( cryptoporticus ),  pierced  with  windows  on  two  sides,  towards  the  sea 
and  the  gardens.  Then  a playground  ( xystam ) “ perfumed  with 
violets  ” appeared  to  have  been  arranged  against  this  saloon  in  such 
a manner  as  to  protect  it  from  the  cold  winds.  In  a very  retired 
position  at  the  end  of  this  -saloon  or  gallery  Avas  built  another  range 
of  apartments,  the  favorite  abode  of  Pliny  ; he  describes  minutely 
all  these  rooms,  and  dwells  at  length  on  their  advantages  of  aspect 
and  vieAV  ; they  included  sleeping-chambers,  a room  warmed  by  a 
stove,  and  a study,  all  in  wholesome  shade  or  warm  sunshine  as  cir- 
cumstances required. 

In  fact,  Pliny  Avas  not  so  foolish  as  to  trouble  himself  about 
symmetry  in  all  this,  and  to  inconvenience  himself  in  order  to 
exhibit  regular  façades  to  the  passers-by.  All  the  buildings  of 
the  villa  Avere  placed  where  they  belonged,  they  were  built  of 
convenient  size  and  arranged  some  at  the  end  of  others,  some  pro- 
jecting, others  in  retreat,  some  small  and  Ioav,  others  large  and 
high  ; some  were  vaulted,  some  wainscoted,  some  Avere  pierced 
with  many  windows,  and  others  had  none  at  all  ; but  in  all  cases 
the  considerations  of  aspect  and -vieAv  subordinated  the  plan,  as 
the  interior  necessities  and  conveniences  controlled  the  elevations. 
Such  villas  Avere  but  a collection  of  a quantity  of  buildings  joined 
together  by  partition  Avails,  having  each  its  own  roof,  its  AvindoAvs 
large  or  small  as  needed,  witli  such  exterior  and  interior  decoration 
as  Avas  proper  in  each  case.  In  all  this,  as  Ave  have  said,  there  Avas  a 
strong  contrast  to  the  regular  plans  of  public  establishments,  for  the 
Romans  had  too  much  good  sense  to  give  to  domestic  architecture 
the  character  of  public  architecture.  They  aimed  to  have  in  their 
ll 


162 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


country-seats,  on  a reduced  scale,  all  the  accommodations  that  could 
be  obtained  in  a town  of  the  time  of  the  republic.  Their  seats  thus 
resembled  well-ordered  villages.  If  the  classic  writers  did  not  de- 
monstrate the  truth  of  our  opinion  in  this  respect,  it  needs  but  a 
glance  at  the  antique  paintings  of  landscape  which  still  exist  in  con- 
siderable numbers.  In  these  may  be  seen  picturesque  groups  of 
irregular  buildings,  united  by  porticos  or  open  galleries,  each  build- 
ing with  its  distinct  roof,  and  each  either  boldly  detached  and  facing 
all  sides  as  if  to  enjoy  the  sun  and  the  view,  or  nestling  under  the 
shade  of  trees  and  hills.  Our  old  abbeys,  our  mediaeval  châteaux 
and  manor-houses,  exactly  conform  to  these  conditions,  as  we  shall 
presently  take  occasion  to  explain  ; and  they  therefore,  as  I have 
said,  seem  to  harmonize  with  classic  traditions  much  more  nearly 
than  do  our  great  regular  structures  of  the  last  few  centuries,  unless, 
indeed,  architecture  is  really  but  the  application  of  an  order  or  the 
use  of  certain  mouldings,  instead  of  the  studied  and  economical  dis- 
tribution of  a plan,  the  true  expression  of*  the  requirements,  usages, 
and  manners  of  a civilized  people. 

In  building  his  country-house,  the  Roman,  with  sound,  practi- 
cal common-sense,  undertook  to  surround  himself  with  everything 
necessary  for  his  bodily  and  mental  comfort  ; and,  to  attain  this 
end,  he  was  content  to  make  use  of  the  resources  conveniently  at 
his  disposal.  If,  at  Rome,  the  houses  were  five  stories  high,  in  the 
country,  where  land  was  less  valuable,  they  were  spread  over  the 
ground,  and  rarely  occupied  more  than  one  floor.  Indeed,  why 
should  people  roost  over  each  other,  when  there  is  ample  space  on 
all  sides  ? l)o  we  retire  to  the  country  to  mount  stairs  all  day  long, 
or  to  have  conveniences  for  promenading  and  enjoying  repose  and 
silence  along  an  extended  surface  of  land  ? What  charm  is  there  in 
a country-house  if  one  must  be  shut  up  in  a great  stone  box,  in 
which,  as  in  the  city,  we  cannot  get  away  from  the  noise  of  people 
ascending  and  descending  at  the  tinkling  of  bells,  the  clatter  of 
opening  and  shutting  doors,  the  steps  of  guests  in  their  apartments, 
the  orders  of  the  housekeeper,  the  cries  of  children,  and  all  that 
incessant  household  movement  which  distracts  the  mind  and  robs 
us  of  the  much-desired  repose  ? I repeat,  if  we  would  have  a true 
Renaissance,  if  we  must  resemble  the  Romans,  let  us,  before  borrow- 
ing from  them  a few  scraps  of  architectural  decoration,  to  which  they 
attached  but  a very  slight  importance,  imitate  them  in  their  wise 


HOUSEHOLD  COMMON-SENSE  AMONG  THE  ROMANS.  163 


application  of  art  to  the  requirements  and  customs  of  life.  Let  us 
cease  to  embarrass  ourselves  with  those  artificial  restraints  which  we 
call  architecture  ; let  art  adorn  and  not  govern  our  households. 

The  common-sense  of  the  Roman  appeared  not  less  in  his  way 
of  constructing  his  houses  and  villas  than  in  the  way  in  which  he 
decorated  and  furnished  them.  Rubble,  concrete,  and  brick  were 
the  usual  building  materials  ; and,  if  he  had  the  means  of  indulging 
in  such  luxuries,  a few  marble  columns  for  the  porticos,  wainscotings 
of  the  same  material  for  those  parts  of  the  interior  walls  exposed  to 
dampness,  plaster  and  stucco  well  made  and  painted  everywhere, 
with  lintels  and  ceilings  of  wood.  If  the  Romans  built  their  public 
edifices  to  last  for  centuries,  they  constructed  their  dwellings  with  a 
view  to  the  probability  that  domestic  changes  would  require  them  to 
be  renewed  perhaps  every  fifty  years.  Most  of  the  dwellings  which 
have  been  disinterred  at,  Pompeii  are  very  lightly  built  ; the  remains 
of  ancient  villas,  so  numerous  in  the  neighborhood  of  Rome,  prove 
that  they  Avere  constructed  in  the  simplest  and  most  economical  man- 
ner. Their  whole  decoration  consisted  in  fresco-paintings,  pavements, 
and  wainscotings  of  marble,  and  a quantity  of  objects  independent  of 
construction,  such  as  vases,  statues,  marble  fountains,  and  furniture  in 
bronze  or  precious  woods  incrusted  with  ivory  and  metals.  The 
Roman  evidently  found  no  pleasure  in  piling  up  enormous  masses 
of  stone  for  his  habitation  ; lie  preferred  to  employ  his  resources  in 
so  arranging  the  various  apartments  of  lus  villa  as  to  obtain  the 
best  vieAv  or  the  best  position  with  regard  to  the  points  of  the  compass 
for  each,  and  to  furnish  them  with  beautiful  marbles,  and  Avith 
elegant  or  curious  works,  such  as  mosaics,  paintings,  Greek  statues, 
and  rare  manuscripts.  lie  understood  Iioav  to  obtain  in  his  house 
coolness  in  summer  and  warmth  in  winter  ; he  had  water  every  - 
Avhere,  and  accommodations  for  all  the  functions  and  duties  of  life  ; 
he  Avished  his  family,  that  is  to  say,  his  relatives,  his  freedmen,  and 
slaves,  to  be  as  comfortable  as  himself,  and  that  order  should  reign 
everywhere  in  his  household,  not  by  a constraint  which  would  be 
insupportable  both  to  him  avIio  imposed  and  to  those  who  submitted 
to  it,  but  by  a Avise  provision  for  every  necessity  and  every  domestic 
requirement.  His  slaves  Avere  certainly  better  lodged  and  treated 
than  are  our  servants  ; they  had  their  separate  building,  their  baths, 
and  their  rooms  for  exercise  or  amusement  ; without  regard  to  their 
social  state,  these  slaves  Avere  in  reality  more  free,  more  happy,  and 


1G4 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


more  comfortably  and  wholesomely  provided  for  than  are  the  domes- 
tics of  any  wealthy  householder  of  the  present  day,  though  indeed  it 
is  true  that  the  former  had  an  intrinsic  value,  and  that  their  master 
was  interested  in  preserving  them  in  health  and  strength. 

W e can  now  understand  how  men,  habituated  to  this  large,  tran- 
quil, and  regular  country  life,  would  desire  to  avoid  the  restraints  of 
a residence  in  the  city  as  far  as  possible.  Indeed,  no  Roman  citizen, 
who  could  afford  to  build  a villa,  would  live  in  Rome,  unless  com- 
pelled by  circumstances  ; and  even  then  he  aimed  to  supply  his 
palace  within  the  walls  with  all  the  comforts  of  the  villa,  with  every 
office,  dependency,  and  convenience,  which  could  minister  to  the 
luxury  and  indulgent  ease  of  Roman  life. 

When  we  examine  a plan  of  ancient  Rome,  on  which  appear  the 
remains  of  the  great  public  structures  of  that  city,  it  is  natural  to  in- 
quire where  were  the  private  dwellings  of  its  citizens,  where  did  that 
great  population  live,  who  were  wont  to  throng  the  Campus  Martins, 
the  circuses,  and  the  amphitheatres.  The  public  edifices,  the  impe- 
rial palaces,  the  porticos,  the  market-places,  occupied  at  least  two 
thirds  of  the  space  included  within  the  walls.  This  is  explained  by 
the  fact  that  the  populace  of  Rome  was  sparse  compared  with  that  of 
our  great  modern  cities,  and  was  huddled  together  in  many-storied 
houses,  though  the  people  spent  the  greater  part  of  their  time  in  the 
public  places  so  magnificently  provided  for  their  amusement  and  ac- 
commodation. Rome,  as  the  centre  of  the  government  of  the  then 
known  world,  necessarily  included  a prodigious  quantity  of  public 
structures  built  on  a colossal  scale.  In  the  absence  of  requisite  space, 
under  the  emperors,  immense  edifices  were  destroyed  to  give  place  to 
new  constructions  ; palaces  and  great  establishments  were  constantly 
removed  to  build  monuments  better  suited  to  the  needs  of  the  day. 
Never  did  a people  demolish  so  extensively  to  rebuild.  Under  the 
Antoni  lies,  entire  quarters  were  suppressed  for  the  accommodation  of 
immense  works  of  public  utility;  and,  moreover,  even  up  to  the  end 
of  the  empire,  there  still  existed,  in  many  parts  of  the  city,  a great 
number  of  public  and  private  gardens.  Nothing  in  modern  Europe 
can  afford  any  idea  of  such  a city.  In  the  suburbs,  within  a circle 
of  six  or  eight  miles  around  its  walls,  arose  a prodigious  quantity  of 
large  and  small  villas,  and,  along  the  roads,  many  more  vast  public 
establishments,  temples,  tombs,  inns,  porticos  for  travellers  ; while 
through  the  midst  of  this  mingled  sea  of  dwellings,  monuments,  and 


DECADENCE  OE  ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE. 


165 


gardens  stretched  the  long  aqueducts  from  the  mountains,  pouring 
great  lakes  into  the  bosom  of  the  metropolis.  The  remains  of  these 
extra-mural  constructions  are  now  buried  under  a barren  soil,  which 
cannot  be  turned  over  at  any  point  without  discovering,  here  a de- 
molished wall  and  there  the  fragments  of  marble  columns,  and  every- 
where mosaics,  pavements,  basins,  cellars,  and,  in  short,  all  the 
ruined  marks  of  a great  city  outside  the  limits  of  Rome. 

At  the  close  of  the  empire,  Rome  had  not  enough  inhabitants  to 
animate  and  people  its  public  and  private  buildings.  Indeed,  strict- 
ly speaking,  there  was  no  longer  a Roman  people.  So  great,  how- 
ever, had  been  their  expansive  power,  that  many  wealthy  citizens  of 
Rome  lived  in  their  villas  in  Gaul,  Africa,  the  Peloponnesus,  or  Asia, 
while  at  the  gates  of  the  capital  a few  slaves  and  ruined  husbandmen 
pillaged  the  abandoned  country-seats.  Meanwhile,  at  distant  points 
of  the  failing  empire,  the  transplanted  Romans  were  spreading  among 
the  nations  their  habits  and  customs  and  fashions  of  building,  so  that 
everywhere  even  to  this  day,  and  more  especially  in  the  East,  the  Ro- 
man traditions  may  still  be  traced  with  scarcely  a modification.  But 
if  the  houses  of  the  Persians  and  Arabians  recall  the  villas  and  man- 
sions of  Rome,  in  modern  Rome  itself  and  throughout  Italy  these 
traditions  have  long  since  faded  away,  and  we  seek  in  vain  for  the 
ancient  palace  in  the  palazzo  Parnese,  or  for  the  villa  of  Augustus  or 
Tiberius  in  the  villa  Pamphili  or  the  villa  Albano. 

In  the  latter  days  of  the  empire,  and  even  before  Constantine,  the 
art  of  architecture  had  become  debased.  At  Rome  there  were  no 
more  artists,  if  even  there  were  laborers  to  build.  The  new  monu- 
ments were  decorated  with  fragments  stolen  from  the  more  ancient  ; 
the  arch  of  Constantine  was  covered  with  bas-reliefs  and  adorned 
with  statues  taken  from  the  Forum  of  Trajan.  The  art  of  sculpture 
had  fallen  into  oblivion,  and  the  emperors,  in  the  midst  of  all  their 
power,  were  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  pillaging  the  monuments  of 
their  predecessors  ; they  began  the  work  which  the  barbarians  fin- 
ished, and  destroyed  the  most  admirable  works  of  art  to  construct 
buildings  in  the  worst  taste,  and  covered  with  enrichments  badly 
designed  and  miserably  executed.  Tims  is  stripped  for  our  inspec- 
tion the  feeble  side  of  Roman  architecture.  The  Romans  had,  as 
we  have  already  explained,  so  carefully  separated  the  building  from 
the  art,  had  used  the  latter  so  essentially  as  a mere  covering  or  en- 
velope for  the  former,  that  art,  treated  thus  as  an  extraneous  thing, 


106 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


before  long  lost  the  consciousness  of  its  inherent  value  ; the  artists 
themselves  soon  disappeared,  and  even  the  craft  of  the  stone-cutter 
was  forgotten  : so  true  it  is  that  neither  power  nor  wealth  suffices  to 
create  artists. 

Thus  the  West,  from  the  time  of  Constantine,  was  subjected  to  a 
long  succession  of  devastations  finally  consummated  by  the  barbarians. 
During  this  sad  period,  art  took  refuge  in  the  East  at  Byzantium  ; 
there  it  was  revived  among  Greek  traditions,  it  borrowed  from  Asi- 
atic civilizations  and  was  transformed.  We  shall  soon  see  how  Ro- 
man art,  thus  transplanted  and  modified,  for  a long  time  illuminated 
Western  Europe  ; how  it  reacted  in  Asia  and  on  the  southern  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean  ; how,  following  the  path  of  commerce,  it  re- 
turned transfigured  to  the  land  it  had  left  ; how  it  mingled  with 
its  own  ancient  traditions  in  Gaul  and  Italy  ; and  how,  in  fine,  it 
adapted  itself  to  the  genius  of  barbaric  nations. 

This  study  will  not  only  have  an  archaeological  interest,  but,  in 
my  opinion,  will  materially  assist  in  the  delivery  of  modern  arts  yet 
unborn.  It  is  in  this  point  of  view  that  I propose  to  present  it.  If 
we  can  forget  our  old  prejudices,  if  we  can  make  ourselves  familiar 
with  the  true  elements  which  constituted  the  architecture  of  an- 
tiquity, and  with  the  manner  in  which  our  ancestors  adapted  these 
elements  to  the  genius  of  our  nation,  we  shall  have  traced  the  path 
which  every  independent  mind  can  follow  in  the  future  to  a trium- 
phant issue. 

It  cannot  be  that  Christianity  supplanted  the  habits  and  customs 
of  antiquity  in  a day  ; no  physical  or  social  revolution  can  be  made 
in  this  world  without  transitions,  and  the  more  the  new  principles 
differ  from  the  old,  the  longer  and  more  laborious  must  be  the  tran- 
sition. It  is  true  that  a few  choice  spirits  passed  from  Paganism 
to  Christianity  with  a bound  ; but  the  multitude,  though  they  had 
become  Christian  in  name,  worship,  and  profession,  long  remained 
Pagan  in  manners  and  habits.  Thus  slavery  existed  in  Europe  long 
after  Europe  had  recognized  the  Christian  law.  The  natural  antago- 
nism between  the  old  traditions  and  this  new  law  was  the  cause  of 
protracted  struggles.  Hardly  had  Christianity  become  the  religion 
of  state  in  the  empire,  when  on  all  sides  arose  innumerable  schisms 
and  heresies,  which  in  reality  were  but  the  protestations  of  heathen 
philosophy  and  habits  against  the  new  religion. 

The  same  phenomena  may  be  observed  in  the  history  of  the  arts, 


y 


THE  BASILICA  OF  FANO. 


PLAN. 


P1.MIL 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRISTIAN  ART. 


1 G 7 


and  these,  being,  at  the  period  we  are  about  to  contemplate,  inti- 
mately allied  with  religion,  were  for  a long  time  uncertain  in  the 
progress  they  were  destined  to  make.  Indeed,  as  regards  the  arts, 
the  difficulty  of  transition  was  even  greater  than  that  suggested  by 
the  analogy  ; for  while  a dogma  may,  by  imperial  decree,  be  consti- 
tuted a national  creed,  it  is  otherwise  with  an  art,  like  architecture, 
which  must  be  expressed  through  the  free  agency  of  a multitude  of 
artists,  artisans,  and  workmen,  all  with  their  prejudices  and  tradi- 
tions. Christianity,  in  its  beginning,  could  not  but  avail  itself  of 
Pagan  arts,  and  it  was  very  slowly  that  these  arts  received  the  modi- 
fications and  new  expressions,  which,  as  they  arose,  were  ever  hotly 
contested.  We  must  then  be  prepared  to  find  in  the  history  of  the 
architecture  of  this  period  of  transition  between  antiquity  and  the 
Middle  Ages  much  blind  groping  and  many  schisms.  Faithful  to 
the  programme  I have  laid  down,  I shall  in  this  manner  endeavor  to 
attract  my  readers  towards  those  invariable  principles  which  are  ca- 
pable, at  this  day,  of  leading  to  practical  results,  to  the  knowledge, 
in  short,  of  the  true  architectural  expression  of  our  own  genius  and 
our  own  times. 


SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


ON  THE  DECLINE  OF  ANCIENT  ARCHITECTURE.  — ON  STYLE  AND  COMPOSITION.  — ON  THE 
ORIIilNS  OF  BYZANTINE  ARCHITECTURE.  — ON  THE  ARCHITECTURE  OF  THE  WEST  SINCE 
THE  ESTABLISHMENT  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

HE  question  which  now  naturally  presents  itself  is 
concerning  Christian  art  : whether  there  is  such 
a thing,  properly  speaking  ; whether  Christianity 
has  on  the  whole  been  favorable  to  the  develop- 
ment of  art  ; and  whether,  without  its  assistance, 
Pagan  art,  whose  decline  and  fall  we  have  just 
been  contemplating,  could  have  been  modified  or  revived.  To  re- 
solve this  question,  let  us  briefly  glance  at  the  history  of  ancient  and 
modern  civilization. 

So  far  as  our  knowledge  of  the  civilizations  of  antiquity  extends,  it 
is  admitted  that  they  all  progressed  more  or  less  rapidly  to  a com- 
plete development  and  then  fatally  declined  ; while  those  of  Christian- 
ity wavered  for  a long  time,  had  their  epochs  of  brilliant  success  and 
of  profound  depression,  but  never  fell  so  low  that  their  inherent  vigor 
failed  to  revive  them  for  a new  career  ; they  seemed  constantly  to  re- 
fresh themselves  at  an  inexhaustible  source  of  active  principles  ; they 
slumbered  at  times,  but  never  died.  Thus,  the  Christian  West, 
though  founded  upon  the  ruins  of  antiquity,  though,  during  eighteen 
centuries,  it  has  been  bathed  in  seas  of  blood  and  been  exposed  to 
the  most  monstrous  excesses  with  all  the  attendant  evils  of  igno- 
rance, error,  fanaticism,  prejudice,  disorder,  revolutions,  wars,  tyr- 
anny, or  anarchy,  — the  West,  far  from  being  exhausted,  seems  to  live 
a new  life.  The  terrible  ordeals  through  which  it  has  passed  have 
not  weakened  either  its  force,  its  intelligence,  or  its  material  prepon- 
derance in  the  affairs  of  the  world.  Must  we  admit  that  art  alone 


RELATION  OF  ART  TO  MODERN  CIVILIZATIONS.  169 


lias  not  been  strengthened  and  inspired  by  this  vital  force  of  the 
modern  societies  of  Western  Europe,  that  it  has  not  participated  in 
their  movements,  that  it  is  a faculty  apart,  and  that  it  has  died  in  the 
midst  of  a civilization  still  progressing  and  ever  renewed  after  every 
trial?  Let  ns  examine  into  this  last  question. 

Art  is  either  independent  of  the  modern  civilization  of  the  West, 
or  it  is  one  of  the  expressions  of  that  civilization  ; if  it  is  indepen- 
dent, modern  society  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  we  can  dispense  with 
it  or  it  can  dispense  with  us  ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  prove  that  art  has  been  one  of  the  most  powerful  levers  of  this 
civilization.  Though  many  are  ignorant  of  this  fact,  or  seem  to  be  so, 
it  is  none  the  less  true.  To  confine  ourselves  for  the  present  to  France, 
it  must  be  admitted  that  the  influence  of  this  nation  in  the  world  is 
not  due  to  its  agriculture,  which  simply  supports  the  people  ; nor  to  its 
industry,  which,  in  a material  point  of  view,  is  inferior  to  that  of  Eng- 
land ; nor  to  its  finances,  for  it  does  not  control  the  markets  of  t lie 
world  ; nor  yet  to  its  arms,  for  the  force  of  arms,  in  itself,  when  not 
applied  to  support  or  propagate  great  ideas,  only  excites  defiance,  or, 
at  best,  earns  for  the  nation,  which  is  ever  ready  to  draw  the  sword  for 
the  sake  of  principles,  a warlike  reputation.  lier  true  arms,  her  real 
strength,  is  in  her  ideas,  and  in  the  various  expressions  of  her  ideas, 
which,  in  fact,  are  so  many  forms  of  art.  The  world  reads  French 
books  and  wears  French  dresses  ; indeed,  the  characteristic  national 
influence  of  the  country  over  the  affairs  of  the  world  arises  from  the 
universal  application  of  art  to  everything  she  does.  Art,  therefore, 
must  be  recognized  as  one  of  the  elements  of  French  civilization  ; 
and  if  this  civilization  is  on  the  broad  road,  not  of  decline,  but  of 
progress,  her  arts  should  naturally  be  in  a flourishing  condition  ; if 
they  are  not,  the  misfortune  can  only  be  attributed  to  the  artists. 
Now,  as  regards  architecture,  1 am  convinced  that  we  are  far  behind 
the  times.  In  this  respect  we  are  just  at  the  point  where  the  West 
was  in  the  time  of  Galileo  in  regard  to  science.  Those  who  consider 
themselves  the  guardians  of  the  eternal  principles  of  beauty  would 
gladly  shut  up,  if  they  could,  as  a dangerous  madman,  any  one  who 
should  undertake  to  demonstrate  that  such  principles  are  independent 
of  any  particular  form  of  expression,  and  that  there  is  no  reason  why, 
because  the  principles  are  invariable,  these  forms  should  remain  eter- 
nally unchanged  and  confined  to  certain  traditional  rules,  governing 
all  detail  and  proportion.  Here  for  four  hundred  years  we  have  been 


170 


DISCOUESES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


disputing  about  the  relative  value  of  ancient  and  modern  art,  and 
during  all  that  time  our  discussions  have  turned,  not  upon  essential 
principles,  but  upon  quibbles  and  equivocations,  upon  details  and 
precedents,  upon  the  authority  for  this,  that,  or  the  other  form. 
The  result  is,  that  we  architects,  absorbed  in  an  art  half  science 
and  half  sentiment,  have  succeeded  in  developing  for  the  public 
only  certain  mysterious  hieroglyphics  which  they  cannot  possibly 
understand,  and  so  they  let  us  wrangle  among  ourselves  in  the 
empty  vanity  of  our  exclusiveness.  Shall  we  never  have  our  Mo- 
lière to  treat  us  as  he  did  the  physicians  of  his  time?  We  too  have 
our  Hippocrates  and  Galen  ; must  we  harp  on  them  forever  ? 

I am  ready  to  agree  with  any  one  that  pure  invention  is  not 
necessary  to  architecture  ; that  the  duty  of  architects  is  not  to 
create,  but  to  analyze,  combine,  and  appropriate  the  traditionary 
forms  at  their  disposal  ; that  the  art  is  so  imperious  concerning  the 
means  of  execution,  that  we  must  take  all  the  elements  of  design 
from  the  experience  of  the  past.  Architecture,  in  fact,  requires  two 
different  operations  of  the  mind,  — the  study  and  the  application  of 
precedent  ; application,  because  if  all  the  masterpieces  of  the  past 
were  collected  together  in  the  brain  of  a single  man,  if  he  did  not 
know  how  to  avail  himself  of  this  knowledge,  if  he  had  no  method  to 
enable  him  to  design  properly  by  the  aid  of  these  masterpieces,  he 
could  only  produce  incongruous  combinations  of  poor  copies,  mere 
imitations,  which,  in  artistic  value,  would  be  far  beneath  the  work 
of  the  barbarian  who  has  no  research,  and  has  never  studied  the 
works  of  the  past. 

The  art  of  architectural  design  rests  upon  two  perfectly  distinct 
elements,  — necessity  and  imagination.  Necessity  imposes  the  pro- 
gramme; it  says,  “I  want  a house  with  air  and  light”;  but  what 
is  imagination  ? It  is  the  faculty  given  to  man  to  reunite  and  com- 
bine in  his  brain  the  things  which  have  affected  the  senses.  Even 
abstractions  must  be  made  tangible  in  form  before  the  human  imagi- 
nation can  conceive  them.  The  professor  of  geometry,  tracing  a line 
upon  a board,  says,  “ The  straight  line  is  the  shortest  distance  be- 
tween two  points.”  The  pupil  does  not  question  this  axiom  ; his 
mind  immediately  comprehends  it,  because  his  imagination  repre- 
sents to  him  two  visible  points  and  a visible  straight  line  uniting 
them.  lie  is  told  again,  “A  point  has  neither  extension,  width,  nor 
height  ; a line  is  but  a succession  of  points,  and  has  therefore  only 


IMAGINATION  AND  MEMORY. 


171 


extension.”  His  mind  at  once  admits  the  abstraction,  but  his 
imagination,  which  is  but  the  daughter  of  his  memory,  pictures  to 
itself  always  two  visible  points  united  by  a visible  line.  The  mind 
acknowledges  the  infinite,  but  no  human  imagination  can  represent 
infinity.  A man  born  blind  and  deaf,  and  without  hands,  could 
have  no  imagination.  In  the  same  manner,  when  one  says  to  an 
architect,  “ I want  a room,”  his  memory  at  once  recalls  some  room 
he  has  seen.  “I  wish  this  room  to  be  high,”  — his  memory  in- 
stinctively goes  to  work  and  revives  the  image  of  a certain  high 
room.  “I  wish  it  to  be  very  open,  and  to  receive  light  freely,”  — 
again  his  memory  travels  and  again  finds  a room  fulfilling  these  con- 
ditions. All  these  mental  operations  are  instantaneous.  The  archi- 
tect is  left  alone  ; the  programme  is  before  him  and  he  must  meet  all 
its  requirements  ; then,  when  the  resources  of  his  memory  have  pre- 
sented to  him  in  disorder  all  the  imagery  suggested  by  the  problem, 
his  reason  intervenes,  he  discusses,  chooses  here  and  there,  rejects 
this  and  that,  until  imagination  has  composed  piece  by  piece  and 
presented  to  his  mind  the  room  complete.  Though  the  result  may,  as 
a whole,  be  dissimilar  to  anything  that  his  memory  has  offered,  yet 
memory  is  the  essential  and  indispensable  agent  of  the  conception. 

Memory,  that  is,  the  faculty  of  repeating  in  the  brain  what  one  has 
seen,  heard,  or  felt,  has  been  called  passive  imagination,  and  the  sec- 
ond faculty  of  combining  these  sensations  and  of  thus  forming  a 
new  conception  has  been  called  active  imagination.  Animals  possess 
the  former,  but  man  alone  is  endowed  with  the  latter.  Thus  swal- 
lows remember  where  and  when  they  should  make  their  nests  ; and 
all  swallows,  since  swallows  have  existed,  have  done  the  same  thing. 
Alan,  in  the  same  manner,  knows  he  must  make  a shelter  for  him- 
self; but,  in  a few  centuries,  from  the  mud  hut  he  arrives  at  the  pal- 
ace of  the  Louvre.  And  why  ? Simply  because  man  reasons,  and 
his  active  imagination  is  nothing  less  than  the  application  of  reason 
to  his  passive  imagination.  “ Active  imagination,”  said  Voltaire,* 
“ so  far  from  being,  as  is  vulgarly  supposed,  together  with  memory, 
the  enemy  of  judgment,  cannot  act  without  the  assistance  of  the  most 
subtle  exercise  of  that  faculty  ; it  combines  the  pictures  of  memory, 
corrects  their  errors,  and  constructs  all  its  fabrics  with  order  and  har- 
mony. There  is  an  astonishing  imagination  in  practical  mathemat- 
ics, and  Archimedes  had  at  least  as  much  imagination  as  Homer.” 


* “ Dictionnaire  Philosophique.” 


172 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


We  must  therefore  reject  the  vulgar  error  that  reason  stifles  the  im- 
agination, and  that,  to  create  new  things,  the  resources  of  memory 
are  not  required.  On  the  contrary,  to  create  new  things,  the  judg- 
ment must  arrange  and  order  the  elements  brought  together  in  the 
mind  by  the  passive  imagination,  or  memory.  Enlarge  your  knowl- 
edge of  precedent,  form  your  judgment,  learn  to  reason,  and  your 
faculty  of  invention  will  be  increased. 

There  is,  however,  a distinction  between  the  action  of  the  imagina- 
tion among  primitive,  barbarous  men  and  among  civilized  and  edu- 
cated men,  for  the  passive  imagination  of  the  barbarian  retains  com- 
paratively but  an  incomplete  and  misty  image  of  the  objects  which 
have  presented  themselves  to  his  senses  ; it  is  a mirror  which  ex- 
aggerates or  deforms  that  which  it  reflects,  while  the  memory  of  the 
civilized  man  is  a sort  of  dry  catalogue,  precise  and  clear.  The  re- 
sult of  this  difference  is  that  the  passive  imagination  of  the  primitive 
man  is  poetic,  and  his  active  imagination  unformed  and  poor  ; but, 
while  the  memory  of  the  cultivated  man  repeats  the  real  appearance 
of  things  with  prosaic  accuracy,  his  active  imagination  may  be  highly 
developed  and  very  poetic.  Thus,  when  he  sees  a weight  oscillate 
at-  the  end  of  a cord,  his  passive  imagination  faithfully  notes  the  fact 
and  attaches  no  supernatural  influence  to  the  phenomenon  ; for  him, 
no  invisible  spirit  pushes  the  pendulum  hither  and  thither;  but  his 
active  imagination  intervenes  and  says,  “ There  is  a law  here  ; this 
weight  oscillates  because  it  is  under  the  influence  of  two  forces,  one 
accidental,  which  has  deranged  its  normal  position,  the  other  neces- 
sary, which  tends  to  restore  it  to  that  position  ; this  last  force,  then, 
is  a physical  law,  which  causes  the  weight  to  bring  the  cord  perpen- 
dicular to  the  horizon  ; it  is  attraction  which  compels  this  weight  to 
tend  towards  the  centre  of  the  earth.”  Another  observer,  having 
attached  a ball  to  the  end  of  a piece  of  string,  causes  it  to  describe  a 
circle  by  a movement  of  his  hand.  He  perceives  that  the  rotatory 
movement  imparted  to  the  ball  keeps  the  string  in  a state  of  ten- 
sion, which  is  increased  as  the  movement  becomes  more  rapid.  His 
passive  imagination  recalls  to  him  that  the  moon  revolves  around  the 
earth  and  the  planets  around  the  sun  ; then  his  active  imagination 
gives  him  a glimpse  of  centrifugal  and  centripetal  forces.  Let  us 
take  an  instance  which  has  closer  relations  to  our  subject.  A barba- 
rian, after  visiting  Rome  and  seeing  its  various  monuments,  returns 
to  his  native  country  ; his  uncultivated  memory  depicts  the  edifices 


IMAGINATION  AND  MEMORY. 


173 


with  the  sculpture  and  painting  which  decorated  them  ; he  has  not 
observed  the  relations  between  the  various  architectural  members  ; 
he  has  been  much  more  impressed  by  the  details  of  the  sculpture,  the 
subjects  represented  in  the  paintings,  than  by  the  proportions,  the 
wise  employment  of  materials,  or  the  adaptation  of  the  buildings 
to  the  purposes  they  were  intended  to  fulfil.  The  objects  which  he 
has  seen  assume  in  his  memory  fantastic  shapes,  like  the  imagery  of 
dreams  ; the  grand  becomes  the  gigantic  ; the  powerful  engines  lift- 
ing enormous  weights  become  sentient  monsters  ; the  statues  are.  ani- 
mated ; the  paintings  see  and  speak.  On  his  return,  he  wishes  to 
gather  together  his  recollections,  his  passive  imagination  is  in  a fever; 
he  also  wishes  to  build  ; but  his  active  imagination,  his  reason,  is 
dormant,  and  the  barbaric  piles,  which  are  evolved  out  of  the  tu- 
mult of  lively  and  poetic  impressions  in  his  mind,  are  necessarily 
confused  in  all  their  elements,  and  everything  is  out  of  place.  A few 
centuries  later  a civilized  man  comes,  and,  with  cold,  critical  eyes, 
examines  these  rude  essays  ; his  passive  imagination  receives  the 
impressions  without  any  attempt  to  analyze  them.  When  he  is 
called  upon  in  turn  to  design  a monument,  his  mind  recurs  to  the 
masterpieces  of  art  ; but  lie  can  only  admire  or  imitate  these  ; he 
cannot  create  with  them  until  they  are  applied,  as  a pure  and  exact 
standard,  to  the  memory  of  those  barbarous  structures,  the  artless 
but  energetic  expressions  of  a passive  imagination  stirred  to  its  in- 
most depths.  Then  those  coarse  images  lose  their  savage  traits,  the 
active  imagination  of  the  intelligent  man  is  possessed  and  invigorated 
by  the  passive  imagination  of  the  barbarian  ; in  his  turn  he  sees,  not 
the  work  of  the  barbarian,  but  the  impression  it  left  upon  his  mind, 
and  he  sees  it  with  the  power  of  reproducing  it  transfigured  and 
purified  for  neAV  uses. 

There  are  times  when  man  has  need  of  the  barbarous  element  just 
as  the  earth  requires  manure  ; for  the  brain,  to  be  productive,  must 
be  disturbed  by  a moral  fermentation,  the  result  of  contrasts  and  con- 
flicts between  the  reality  and  the  conception.  The  epochs  most  fertile 
in  works  of  the  imagination  (and  among  these  I class  the  arts,  though 
there  are  those  who  produce  works  of  art  as  manufacturers  make 
yards  of  velvet)  are  the  epochs,  not  of  repose,  but  of  agitation,  those 
which  furnish  to  the  observer  the  greatest  number  of  contrasts. 
M hen  society  has  arrived  at  an  advanced  degree  of  civilization,  when 
everything  is  pondered,  provided  for,  ordered,  and  arranged,  there  is 


174 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


established  a general  level  of  comfort,  convenience,  and  convention- 
ality, which,  while  they  make  mankind  happy,  do  not  excite  his 
intelligence.  The  arts  require  movement,  struggles,  revolutions,  ob- 
stacles even  ; the  absence  of  such  movement  in  the  moral  as  in  the 
physical  world  soon  leads  to  corruption.  Roman  society,  placed  in 
the  centre  of  the  West,  the  absolute  mistress  of  all  known  peoples, 
became  enfeebled  and  corrupt  for  the  want  of  obstacles  to  overcome, 
for  the  want  of  discussions  and  contrasts.  Manners  and  arts  decline 
for  this  only  reason,  that  everything  which  is  not  refreshed  in  this 
world  by  the  movement  and  contrast  of  foreign  elements  must  perish. 
Ideas  are  like  families  ; they  must  be  crossed,  or  else  they  physically 
decline. 

What  becomes  of  the  poet  in  the  midst  of  a society  perfectly  or- 
dered, governed,  and  policed,  in  which  every  one  has  nearly  the  same 
quantity  and  the  same  kind  of  ideas  on  every  subject  ? Excess  and 
contrast  are  necessary  to  him.  When  the  man  of  feeling  sees  his 
country  down-trodden,  when  lie  is  the  witness  of  odious  abuse,  when 
his  conscience  is  oppressed,  when  he  suffers  or  hopes,  if  he  is  a poet, 
he  will  inevitably  be  inspired  ; he  will  write  and  excite  emotions  ; 
but  if  he  lives  in  the  midst  of  an  elegant,  tolerant,  and  self-indulgent 
society,  where  all  excess  is  regarded  as  a mark  of  bad  taste,  how  is 
he  inspired  and  where  his  theme  ? He  will  describe  floAvers,  stream- 
lets, and  verdant  meadows,  perhaps,  or,  working -himself  into  a ficti- 
tious frenzy,  he  will  plunge  into  the  realms  of  the  fantastic,  the 
astonishing,  the  impossible,  or  he  will  give  utterance  to  a vague  de- 
sire, a causeless  complaint,  he  will  express  sufferings  without  an  ob- 
ject. But  the  true  poet,  penetrating  beneath  the  surface  of  society, 
however  calm  and  smooth  and  specious  it  may  be,  will  discover  sen- 
timents which  can  never  perish  while  there  is  life  ; he  will  discover 
the  eternal  warfare  of  noble  and  base  passions  in  the  human  heart, 
and  will  set  once  more  before  the  eyes  of  men  those  contrasts  which 
they  have  forced  to  disappear,  and  thus  will  be  heard  and  read. 
The  more  society  is  civilized  and  governed,  the  more  the  artist,  if  he 
would  make  an  impression  on  its  serene  surface,  is  constrained  to  an- 
alyze and  dissect  its  passions,  manners,  and  tastes,  to  recur  to  princi- 
ples, to  seize  them  and  hold  them  up  naked  before  the  world.  Yet 
it  remains  true  that  it  is  far  more  difficult  to  be  an  artist  in  times 
like  ours  than  among  gross  and  savage  people  swayed  without  re- 
straint by  tumultuous  passions. 


STYLE. 


175 


Thus,  in  primitive  epochs,  style  imposed  itself  upon  artists  ; to- 
day the  artist  must  seek  for  style. 

But  what  is  style  ? By  style  I do  not  refer  to  the  classification  of 
art  by  periods,  as  the  Byzantine  style,  the  Saracenic  style,  the  Greek 
style,  but  I mean  that  style  which  is  inherent  in  all  arts  of  all  times. 
Thus  the  writer  in  any  language  has  his  peculiar  style  ; but  there  is 
also  a style  belonging  to  all  languages  and  peculiar  to  none,  because 
it  appertains  to  humanity.  This  style  is  inspiration,  but  inspiration 
submitted  to  the  laws  of  reason,  inspiration  which  confers  an  indi- 
vidual distinction  upon  every  work  resulting  from  a true  sentiment, 
which  has  been  rigorously  analyzed  by  reason  before  it  has  been 
expressed  ; it  is  the  intimate  accord  of  the  faculty  of  imagining  and 
the  faculty  of  reasoning  ; it  is  the  effort  of  the  active  imagination  in- 
formed by  reason.  I have  said  in  previous  pages  that  the  passive 
imagination  of  the  Greek  recalled  a man  on  horseback,  but  his  active 
imagination  inspired  him  to  make  one  being  of  these  two  ; and  his 
reason  taught  him  how  to  unite  the  torso  of  one  to  the  breast  of  the 
other  : he  created  a centaur,  and  that  creation  had  style,  not  because 
it  was  Greek,  but  because  it  was  an  inspiration.  3 

A distinguished  writer  has  lately  said  that  in  architecture  “ style 
is  first  the  epoch,  then  the  man.”*  This  definition  seems  to  me  to 
confound  that  which  is  conventionally  called  the  styles  with  style. 
It  may  be  said  that  the  style  of  some  epochs,  like  that  of  the  Romans 
under  the  last  emperors  of  the  West,  is  entirely  destitute  of  style. 
There  is  a Louis  XIV.  style  and  a Louis  XV.  style,  and  ingenious 
parties  have  lately  discovered  even  a Louis  XVI.  style  ; yet  one  of 
the  characteristics  of  the  art  of  architecture  at  the  end  of  the  seven- 
teenth and  through  the  eighteenth  centuries  is  absence  of  style. 
“ We  must  define  terms,”  said  Voltaire,  who  was  apt  to  be  right. 
Style  proper  and  style  as  referred  to  in  antiquarian  nomenclature  are 
two  distinct  things. 

Style  consists  in  distinction  of  form  ; it  is  one  of  the  essential  ele- 
ments of  beauty,  but  it  does  not  in  itself  constitute  beauty.  Civil- 
ization dulls,  but  does  not  destroy  those  instincts  of  man  which  lead 
him  to  put  style  into  his  works.  These  instincts  act  in  spite  of 
ourselves.  In  the  midst  of  society  you  distinguish  one  person  above 
all  others.  This  person  possesses  none  of  those  striking  characteris- 
tics which  constitute  beauty  ; her  traits  are  irregular  ; and  yet,  your 

* “Traité  d’  Architecture,”  by  M.  Léonce  Raynaud,  Yol.  II.  p.  86. 


176 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


eyes  are  strangely  fascinated  by  her.  Even  though  unaccustomed  to 
habits  of  philosophic  observation,  you  soon  can  analyze  the  cause  of 
the  mysterious  attraction.  At  first  view  it  is,  perhaps,  a distin- 
guished elegance  of  line,  a harmony  between  the  bony  and  muscular 
systems  ; the  combination  may  be  irregular  and  without  strict  beau- 
ty or  correctness  of  outline,  yet  it  is  a combination  which  at  once 
arouses  either  your  sympathy  or  your  antipathy.  Your  thoughts  are 
preoccupied  by  her  shape,  a certain  propriety  or  singularity  of  rela- 
tion between  her  frame  and  the  envelope  which  encloses  it,  the  way 
in  which  the  hair  is  attached  to  the  cranium,  the  limbs  to  the  body, 
the  harmony  between  the  gestures  and  the  thought.  Soon  you  seem 
to  have  distinct  ideas  concerning  her  habits,  tastes,  and  character; 
she  becomes  the  theme  of  a complete  romance  in  your  mind,  though 
you  have  never  seen  her  before,  do  not  know  her,  and  have  never 
spoken  to  her.  This  mysterious  attraction  of  animated  beings  is  due 
to  style.  The  human  species  is  so  often  marred  by  false  education, 
by  moral  and  physical  infirmities,  that  it  is  unusual  to  meet  with 
style  in  one  of  its  members.  But  animals,  as  distinguished  from 
man,  always  possess  this  harmony,  this  perfect  conformity  between 
the  envelope  and  the  instinct,  the  breath,  which  makes  them  live; 
all,  therefore,  from  the  insect  to  the  noblest  quadruped,  have  style. 
Among  them,  a false  gesture,  a movement  which  does  not  clearly  and 
directly  indicate  a definite  intention,  a desire,  or  a fear  is  impossi- 
ble : they  are  never  affected,  mannered,  or  vulgar  ; whether  beautiful 
or  ugly,  they  all  are  stylish,  because  their  instincts  are  simple,  and 
the  means  by  which  they  accomplish  their  purposes  direct  and  nat- 
ural. But  man,  and  especially  civilized  man,  as  he  is  an  extremely 
complicated  animal,  as  he  is  transformed  by  an  education  which 
obliges  him  to  contend  forever  against  his  instincts,  by  self-denial,  in 
short,  to  obtain  style,  must,  so  to  speak,  make  a retrospective  effort. 
Every  one  must  sympathize  with  Alceste  when  he  claims  to  prefer 
the  nursery  rhyme, 

“Si  le  roi  m'avait  donné 
Paris  sa  grand’ ville,” 

to  a sonnet  of  Orontis  ; but  unhappily  this  does  not  prevent  poetas- 
ters like  Orontis  from  going  on  making  vapid  sonnets,  and  archi- 
tects from  covering  their  buildings  with  ornaments  without  reason 
and  without  style. 

We  have  to-day  become  strangers  to  those  elemental  and  simple 


STYLE. 


177 


ideas  of  truth  which  lead  architects  to  give  style  to  their  designs  ; it 
is  therefore  necessary  to  define  the  constituent  elements  of  style,  and, 
in  doing  so,  to  carefully  avoid  those  equivocations,  those  high-sound- 
ing but  senseless  phrases,  which  have  been  repeated  with  all  that 
profound  respect  which  most  people  profess  for  that  which  they  do 
not  understand.  If  ideas  are  to  be  communicated,  they  must  be 
rendered  palpable  and  tangible.  If  we  wish  that  style,  as  regards 
form,  should  be  comprehended,  we  must  consider  form  in  its  simplest 
expressions. 

Let  us,  then,  take  one  of  the  primitive  arts,  that  which  is  first 
practised,  because  first  needed,  among  nations,  — the  art  of  the  cop- 
persmith, for  instance.  It  is  unnecessary  here  to  consider  how  long  it 
was  before  man  was  enabled  so  to  refine  and  to  reduce  copper  to  thin 
plates  as  to  be  able  to  make  of  it  a vase  fit  to  contain  a liquid.  We 
propose  to  take  the  art  at  the  moment  when  it  has  been  discovered 
that,  by  beating  a sheet  of  copper  in  a certain  manner,  it  can  be 
modelled  and  made  to  assume  the  form  of  a vase.  To  obtain  this 
result,  the  workman  requires  but  an  anvil  and  a hammer.  By  the 
proper  use  of  these  tools  he  can  cause  a sheet  of  copper  to  return  on 
itself  and  from  a plane  surface  create  a hollow  body.  Ilis  first  care 
is  to  make  a flat,  circular  bottom  for  his  vase,  in  order  that  it  may 
stand  firm  when  it  is  full  ; and  to  prevent  its  contents  from  spilling 
when  it  is  moved,  he  contracts  its  upper  orifice  and  then  spreads  it 
suddenly  at  the  edge,  to  facilitate  pouring  out.  Fig.  19  presents  the 

Fig.  19. 


most  natural  shape,  given  by  the  method  of  fabrication,  for  such  a 
vase.  To  enable  the  vessel  to  be  lifted  conveniently,  the  workman 
attaches  handles  to  it  by  means  of  rivets  ; but,  as  the  vase  requires  to 
be  inverted  when  it  is  empty,  that  it  may  lie  dried,  he  so  shapes 
these  handles  as  not  to  arise  above  its  upper  level.  Fashioned  thus 
in  the  necessary  progress  of  fabrication,  the  vase  has  style,  first,  be- 
cause it  distinctly  indicates  its  own  destination  ; second,  because  its 
material  has  been  shaped  with  the  simplest  regard  for  its  adapta - 
12 


178 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


bility  to  the  requirements  ; and,  third,  because  the  form  obtained  is 
that  which  most  readily  conforms  to  the  substance  of  which  it  is 
made,  and  to  the  uses  for  which  it  is  destined.  It  has  style,  because 
the  human  reason  has  indicated  exactly  its  appropriate  form.  But 
the  coppersmiths  themselves,  in  their  desire  to  do  better  or  otherwise 
than  their  predecessors,  soon  quit  the  line  of  truth  and  propriety. 
There  comes  then  a second  coppersmith,  who  proposes  to  modify  the 
form  of  the  primitive  vase  in  order  to  seduce  the  purchaser  with  the 
attraction  of  novelty  ; to  this  end  he  gives  a few  extra  blows  of  the 
hammer  and  rounds  off'  the  body  of  the  vase,  which  until  then  had 
been  regarded  as  perfect  (Fig.  20).  The  form  is  in  fact  novel,  and 

Fig.  20.  Fig.  21. 


it  becomes  fashionable,  and  everybody  in  town  must  have  one  of  the 
vases  made  by  the  second  coppersmith.  A third,  seeing  the  success 
of  this  expedient,  goes  still  further,  and  makes  a third  vase  (Fig.  21), 
with  rounder  outlines,  for  anybody  who  will  buy  it.  Having  quite 
lost  sight  of  the  principle,  he  becomes  capricious  and  fanciful  ; he 
attaches  developed  handles  to  his  vase,  and  these  he  declares  to  be 
in  the  newest  taste.  It  cannot  be  overturned  to  be  drained  without 
danger  of  bending  these  handles,  yet  every  one  applauds  the  new  vase, 
and  the  third  coppersmith  is  regarded  as  having  singularly  perfected 
his  art,  while  in  fact  he  has  only  robbed  the  original  work  of  all  its 
style,  and  produced  an  object  which  is  really  ugly  and  comparatively 
inconvenient. 

Thus  it  is  with  style  in  all  arts.  The  arts  which  have  ceased  to 
express  the  necessities  which  called  them  into  existence,  the  nature 
of  the  material  employed,  and  the  manner  of  fashioning  it,  have 
ceased  to  have  style.  The  style  of  architecture  of  the  Roman  de- 
cline and  that  of  the  eighteenth  century  have  no  style  whatever. 
Custom  permits  us  to  say,  the  style  of  the  arts  of  the  Lower  Empire, 
of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.  ; but  we  should  not  say,  the  arts  of  the 
Lower  Empire  or  those  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.  have  style,  for 
their  great  defect  (if  it  be  a defect)  is  in  being  entirely  regardless 


STYLE. 


179 


of  style,  since  they  manifest  an  evident  contempt  for  tlie  true  form 
expressive  of  the  object  and  its.  usage.  If  a Roman  matron  of  the 
time  of  the  republic  should  make  her  appearance  in  a saloon  tilled 
with  women  clothed  in  cages  of  hoops,  with  powdered  hair  and  a 
scaffolding  of  feathers  and  flowers  on  their  heads,  she  would  seem 
quite  out  of  fashion  ; it  is  not  less  certain  that  her  toilet  would  have 
style,  while  those  of  the  ladies  in  hoops  would  be  in  the  style  of  their 
time,  but  without  style.  This,  it  seems  to  me,  is  a definite  point  of 
departure  to  enable  us  to  appreciate  the  meaning  of  this  term.  But 
it  must  not  be  supposed  that  style  is  peculiar  to  any  fixed  form,  and 
that  the  women  of  the  present  day,  if  they  desire  to  be  stylish,  should 
be  clothed  like  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi.  The  robe  of  satin  or  of 
wool  may  each  have  style,  but  on  condition  that  the  cut  of  each  shall 
not  deny  the  form  of  the  body  which  it  covers,  shall  not  ridiculously 
exaggerate  it,  shall  not  embarrass  its  movements,  and  that  both 
stuffs  shall  be  cut  with  a view  to  their  respective  characteristics. 
Nature,  in  all  her  works,  has  style,  because,  however  varied  her 
productions  may  be,  they  arc  always  submitted  to  laws  and  invaria- 
ble principles.  The  lilies  of  the  field,  the  leaves  of  the  trees,  the 
insects,  have  style,  because  they  grow,  develop,  and  exist  according 
to  essentially  logical  laws.  We  can  spare  nothing  from  a flower, 
because,  in  its  organization,  every  part  has  its  function  and  is  formed 
to  carry  out  that  function  in  the  most  beautiful  manner.  Style 
resides  in  the  true  and  well-understood  expression  of  a principle, 
and  not  in  an  immutable  form  ; therefore,  as  nothing  exists  in 
nature  without  a principle,  everything  in  nature  must  have  style. 
I have  already  said,  and  I repeat  it,  for  fear  it  may  be  forgotten, 
that  discussions  on  art  turn  on  ambiguities.  You  have  been  told  in 
the  schools  that  Greek  art  lias  the  imprint  of  style,  and  that,  as  this 
style  is  pure,  that  is  to  say,  complete  and  without  alloy,  you  must 
copy  the  Greek  form  if  you  wish  your  art  to  have  style.  It  might  as 
well  be  said,  the  tiger  or  the  cat  has  style  ; therefore  disguise  your- 
self as  a tiger  or  a cat,  if  you  would  express  style.  Instead  of  this, 
it  should  be  explained  to  you  why  the  cat  and  the  tiger,  the  flower 
and  the  insect,  have  style,  and  you  should  be  instructed  to  proceed 
like  Nature  in  her  productions,  and  thus  you  would  be  enabled  to 
give  style  to  all  the  conceptions  of  your  brain.  This,  it  is  true,  is  no 
easy  task,  surrounded,  as  you  are,  by  a complicated  civilization,  which 
has  no  characteristic  expression  in  art,  which  is  under  the  dominion 


180 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  traditions  and  prejudices,  swayed  rather  by  habit  than  by  convic- 
tion, which  is  fashionable,  cloyed,  sceptical,  and  little  fitted  to  admit 
the  true  expression  of  a principle  ; but  it  is  not  impossible. 

Any  doctrine  which  tends  to  prove  that  a very  advanced  state  of 
civilization  necessarily  excludes  style  from  art,  seems  to  me  very 
singular.  It  is  always  possible  to  give  to  the  arts  the  element 
necessary  to  their  splendor  and  their  duration.  To  this  end,  the 
work  of  cold  reason  is  alone  essential.  To  explain  : among  primi- 
tive people,  the  spirit  or  imagination  of  the  artist  is  capable  of 
producing  works  possessing  style,  because  this  spirit  or  imagination 
proceeds  like  nature.  A necessity  or  a desire  manifests  itself,  and 
man  employs  the  most  direct  means  of  satisfying  it.  Style,  then, 
resides  in  the  simplicity  of  the  means  employed  by  the  artist,  it  is 
independent  of  the  man  ; but  with  us  in  modern  times  the  con- 
ditions are  different.  We  can  read  and  write,  we  have  been  taught 
to  translate  Greek  and  Latin  classics,  we  have  learned  Corneille, 
Boileau,  and  Racine  by  heart;  the  beauties  of  these  poets  and  writers 
have  been  duly  explained  to  us  ; if  we  have  been  attentive,  we  under- 
stand these  explanations,  but  hardly  the  qualities  to  which  they 
relate  ; imbued,  as  it  were,  with  this  education  (which,  indeed,  I 
am  far  from  blaming),  we  leave  college,  and  if  we  wish  to  give 
expression  to  a thought  which  occurs  to  us,  we  first  study  what 
Cicero,  Horace,  or  Boileau  would  have  done,  if  they  had  been  called 
on  to  give  a literary  or  poetic  turn  to  the  same  thought.  Thus  our 
education  leads  us  to  give  to  the  issue  of  our  own  brains  a style 
which  belongs  to  works  whose  merits  we  have  been  made  to  ap- 
preciate. But  in  literature  it  is  necessary, 

Que  toujours  le  bon  sense  s’accorde  avec  la  rime  ; 

because  everybody  reads,  and  nearly  everybody  can  understand  what 
he  reads.  The  poet  or  writer  of  our  days,  who  “ from  heaven  has 
received  the  secret  influence,”  without  forgetting  Cicero  or  A irgil, 
Racine  or  Voltaire,  expresses  his  ideas,  not  by  imitating  literally 
the  forms  and  turns  of  expression  employed  by  those  authors,  but 
simply  by  proceeding  as  they  would  have  done  under  similar  circum- 
stances. Instruction  aids  the  true  writer,  because  public  opinion  is 
his  true  guide.  But  in  the  art  of  architecture  we  have  not  this 
touchstone  of  common-sense.  The  public  regards  architecture  as 
one  does  a book  which  he  cannot  read.  His  admiration  stops  at 


STYLE. 


181 


the  binding  and  the  typography.  Even  if  the  book  is  full  of  the 
dullest  follies,  it  does  not  disgust  the  man  who  cannot  decipher  its 
characters.  Deprived,  then,  of  the  chastisement  and  spur  of  public 
opinion,  our  young  architects  study  and  cherish  the  works  of  an- 
tiquity and  of  what  are  called  the  first  modern  epochs.  We  go  to 
Rome  or  Athens.  Filled  with  fine  examples  of  antiquity  which  we 
have  seen  under  a pure  sky,  we  return  one  day  to  be  once  more 
plunged  in  the  fogs  of  the  Seine  or  Thames,  and  we  are  called  upon 
to-  design  a building  according  to  new  requirements  which  were 
never  dreamt  of  in  Greece  or  Italy.  And  here  it  is  well  to  observe 
that,  if  the  works  of  Virgil,  Horace,  or  Cicero  have  come  down  to  us 
entire  and  pure  from  all  alloy,  it  is  not  so  with  the  architectural 
monuments  of  antiquity,  those  mutilated  ruins  of  an  art,  whose  true 
motives  and  inspirations,  whose  exact  relations  with  the  manners  and 
ideas  of  the  people  who  constructed  them,  there  is  hardly  an  author 
or  a tradition  to  explain  to  us.  Doubtless  the  passions  and  emotions 
of  the  human  soul  are  the  same  in  all  times;  but  tins  does  not  mean 
that  Napoleon  I.,  for  example,  had  the  same  ideas  as  Alexander  about 
men  and  things.  It  is  precisely  these  differences  between  men,  as 
regards  their  ideas,  which  have  and  should  have  a great  influence 
upon  art,  and  the  art  of  architecture  in  particular.  A Greek  or  a 
Roman  may  have  attached  to  certain  forms  ideas  which  are  lost  to 
us  ; from  the  moment  when  these  forms  ceased  to  be  the  expression 
of  ideas  to  us,  they  became  meaningless  and  should  have  ceased  to 
exist  as  motives  of  design. 

I am  very  ready  to  admit  that  beauty  is  a positive  quality  ; that, 
to  use  the  language  of  a modern  author  regarding  architecture,  “ the 
good  is  the  essential  basis  of  the  beautiful.”  But  the  question  is, 
What  is  the  good?  For  most  people,  it  is  good  to  employ  habitually 
a certain  idea  or  form,  although  that  form  or  idea  may  not  be  good 
when  compared  with  others.  We  call  a proceeding  or  a custom 
good  because  it  is  familiar  to  us  ; yet,  relatively  to  another  proceed- 
ing or  another  custom  which  is  unknown  to  us,  it  may  be  bad,  or  at 
least  insufficient.  Thus,  it  was  good  to  navigate  with  sails  before 
the  force  of  steam  was  known  ; but  this  means  of  navigation,  excel- 
lent in  past  times,  is  not  good  when  compared  with  those  which 
modern  industry  furnishes  us  with.  We  can  say  the  same  of  the 
ideas,  the  systems,  the  principles,  which  govern  art  ; when,  in  the 
course  of  material  progress,  they  are  modified,  the  forms  which 


182 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


faithfully  expressed  them,  and  were  therefore  beautiful,  must,  to  re- 
main beautiful  under  the  new  conditions,  undergo  a corresponding 
modification.  We  admire  a hundred-gun  sailing-ship  of  the  line  ; 
we  recognize,  in  this  work  of  man,  not  only  the  effort  of  a mar- 
vellous intelligence,  but  forms  so  perfectly  adapted  to  their  uses  as 
to  seem,  and,  in  fact,  to  be,  beautiful  ; but,  however  beautiful  these 
forms  may  be  as  regards  their  fitness  for  the  uses  of  propulsion  by 
wind,  from  the  moment  when  the  power  of  steam  was  discovered  for 
marine  uses,  they  became  obsolete  and  were  no  longer  good,  and,  ac- 
cording to  the  axiom  we  have  just  cited,  they  cease  to  be  beautiful 
for  us  in  their  application  to  the  art  of  ship-building.  At  our  epoch, 
therefore,  when  we  are  under  the  dominion  of  an  absolute  necessity, 
we  submit  our  works  to  this  necessity,  and  these  works  thus  have 
style,  because  they  are  the  result  of  the  rigorous  application  of  a 
principle.  But  we  construct  public  edifices  without  style,  because, 
in  architecture,  we  are  not  governed  by  such  an  absolute  necessity 
as  constantly  invigorates  the  mechanic  arts,  and  we  allow  ourselves 
to  ally  forms,  which  were  good  and  beautiful  in  their  relations  to 
old  traditions,  to  the  new  and  modified  uses  of  the  day.  Naval  con- 
structors and  mechanical  engineers,  when  they  make  a steamboat  or 
a locomotive,  do  not  seek  to  recall  the  sailing-ship  of  the  time  of 
Louis  XIV.,  or  a coach-aud-four  ; they  obey  without  question  the 
new  principles  which  are  laid  before  them,  and  produce  works  which 
have  their  peculiar  character  and  style,  inasmuch  as  they  distinctly 
indicate  their  uses  to  every  eye.  A locomotive,  for  instance,  has  its 
peculiar  physiognomy,  not  the  result  of  caprice,  but  of  necessity.  It 
expresses  controlled  power  ; its  movements  are  gentle  or  terrible,  it 
advances  with  awful  impetuosity  or,  when  at  rest,  seems  to  tremble 
with  impatience  under  the  hand  of  the  engineer.  It  is  almost  a liv- 
ing being,  and  its  exterior  form  is  but  the  expression  of  its  power. 
A locomotive,  then,  has  style.  Some  say  it  is  but  an  ugly  machine. 
And  why  ugly  ? Does  it  not  have  the  true  expression  of  brutal  en- 
ergy? Is  it  not  a complete  organized  mass,  possessing  a particu- 
lar character,  like  a piece  of  artillery  or  a rifle  ? A thing  has  style 
when  it  has  the  expression  appropriate  to  its  uses.  A sailing-vessel 
has  style,  but  a steamer,  which  should  conceal  its  motive-power  to 
assume  the  appearance  of  a sailing-vessel,  has  no  style  ; a rifle  has 
style,  but  a rifle  made  to  resemble  a cross-bow  does  not.  Now  we 
architects  have  for  a long  time  past  been  endeavoring  to  fashion  our 


STYLE 


183 


rifles  to  imitate  the  cross-bow  as  nearly  as  possible,  or  at  least  the 
arquebuse,  and  there  are  many  grave  people  who  will  maintain  that, 
if  we  abandon  this  form,  we  shall  become  barbarians,  that  art  will 
be  lost  and  must  needs  cover  up  its  face  in  shame.  But  let  us  leave 
metaphors. 

Fig.  22. 


184 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Here  (Fig.  22)  is  a construction  of  the  best  Roman  period,  that  is, 
the  period  during  which  the  Greeks  were  called  upon  to  construct 
the  edifices  of  Rome  ; it  is  the  wall  of  the  circular  cella  of  the  tem- 
ple of  Vesta,  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber.  The  columns  of  this  temple 
are  marble  monoliths,  and  the  wall  of  the  cella  is  faced  on  its  exte- 
rior surface  with  the  same  material  ; but  marble  was  a material  rare 
enough  at  Rome  to  make  it  desirable  to  avoid  a prodigal  use  of  it. 
This  wall,  therefore,  is  composed,  at  intervals,  of  thin  courses  of  mar- 
ble, A,  running  through  its  whole  thickness,  and,  between  these,  of 
an  ashlar  facing  B,  also  of  marble,  with  an  economical  backing  of 
travertine,  the  calcareous  stone  of  the  country.  The  backing  and 
facing  are  always  clamped  together  with  iron.  On  the  interior  face 
the  courses  of  travertine  were  covered  with  painted  stucco.  This  is 
a wall,  a simple  wall,  whose  construction  has  style.  The  alterna- 
tion of  thin  courses  serving  as  ties  or  bonds  for  the  facing,  the  square 
channels  along  the  joints  frankly  confessing  the  form  of  every  stone 
and  showing  the  means  employed,  all  make  up,  without  affectation, 
a decoration  full  of  style,  because  the  eye  at  once  comprehends  the 
solid  and  well-reasoned  structure.  Seduced  by  the  firm  and  elegant 
appearance  of  this  simple  wall-facing,  an  architect,  on  his  return  to 
Paris,  desires  to  reproduce  it.  But  there  he  must  construct  with 
stone,  and  not  with  marble  ; they  send  to  him  from  the  quarry  courses 
of  equal  heights,  composed  of  stones  from  three  to  six  feet  long. 
Should  he  amuse  himself  by  cutting  these  great  blocks  into  small 
pieces  in  order  to  enable  him  to  imitate  the  style  of  rustic  masonry 
in  the  temple  of  Vesta?  Or,  rather,  should  he  content  himself  with 
an  appearance,  and  cut  grooves  where  there  are  no  joints  ? In  the 
first  case,  he  will  make  a bad  and  costly  structure  ; in  the  second,  he 
will  utter  a lie  in  stone  : in  either  case,  his  construction  will  have  no 
style,  because  it  will  not  be  the  expression  of  the  nature  of  the  mate- 
rial employed,  or  of  the  manner  of  employing  it  in  Paris.  An  iso- 
lated Roman  Corinthian  monolithic  column  in  marble  or  granite 
has  style,  because  the  eye  traverses  the  great  block  of  stone  from  its 
base  to  its  summit  without  finding  a single  joint  to  disturb  the 
expression  of  homogeneousness  belonging  to  its  rigid  function  as  a 
slender  support.  But  a Corinthian  column  made  of  courses  of  stone, 
like  those  of  the  Madeleine  or  the  Pantheon  at  Paris,  has  no  style, 
because  the  eye  cannot  be  satisfied  at  seeing  such  a slender  support- 
ing member  built  up  with  a pile  of  small  stones.  If  the  material,  or 


STYLE. 


185 


the  means  of  employing  it,  is  changed,  the  form  should  be  changed 
also.  If  you  change  the  requirements  of  a building,  you  must  change 
its  plan  also.  A profile  of  mouldings  has  in  itself  no  style  ; its  style 
consists  in  its  fitness  for  the  duty  it  performs  and  the  place  it  occu- 
pies. The  Romans,  though  inferior  to  the  Greeks  in  respect  to  the 
application  of  style  to  their  work,  are  yet  very  superior  to  us.  Thus, 
in  building  an  arcade  bearing  a wall,  they  were  accustomed  to  give 
to  the  arch-stones  {poussoirs)  of  their  arches  all  the  strength  neces- 
sary to  their  function,  and  they  decorated  these  arches  with  mould- 
ings {( archivolts ) which  followed  the  continuous  outer  line  {extrados) 
of  the  voussoirs  (Fig.  23,  A),  and  were  cut  only  on  those  stones.  We 
find  these  arcades  very  beautiful,  and  we  undertake  therefore  to  make 

Fig.  23. 


similar  archivolts  ; but,  barbarians  that  we  are,  we  build  them  up  as 
indicated  at  B,  where  the  mouldings  of  the  archivolt  do  not  follow  the 
constructive  line  of  the  voussoirs,  which  jut  out  beyond  the  archivolt 
and  fit  into  the  courses  of  masonry  above  ; this  is  the  merest  non- 
sense. The  architect  says  to  the  public,  “ You  admire  the  arcades 
of  such  a Roman  edifice  ; admire  also  mine,  which  are  faithfully  cop- 
ied from  them.”  But  the  public  does  not  admire  the  copy  ; it  can- 
not explain  why,  nor  does  it.  understand  the  difference  between  an 
arch  with  an  extrados  (A)  and  one  whose  voussoirs  are  built  into  the 
courses  of  the  wall  above  (B)  ; but  there  is  something  in  the  contra- 
diction between  the  construction  and  the  decoration  at  B which  in- 


18  G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


stinctively  displeases  the  multitude,  who  very  properly  turn  away  to 
admire  the  old  Roman  model.  It  must  he  admitted,  however,  that 
the  Romans  were  the  first  to  forget  the  true  principles  of  style,  and  it 
is  in  this  forgetting  that  we  must  avoid  following  them. 

To-day  style  has  tied  from  the  fine  arts  and  taken  refuge  in  the 
industrial  ; but,  to  restore  it,  we  need  only  a little  of  the  same  good 
sense  applied  to  our  study  and  appreciation  of  the  tine  arts  that  we 
apply  daily  to  the  affairs  of  material  life.  But,  so  far  from  this  be- 
ing the  case,  it  would  seem  that  the  more  rationally  and  logically  we 
act  with  respect  to  the  industrial  arts,  the  more  irrational  and  illogi- 
cal, capricious  and  prejudiced,  are  we  as  regards  the  fine  arts.  We, 
who,  in  the  fabrication  of  our  machinery,  give  to  every  part  the 
strength  and  the  form  which  it  requires,  with  nothing  superfluous, 
nothing  which  does  not  indicate  a necessary  function,  in  our  architec- 
ture foolishly  accumulate  forms  and  features  taken  from  all  sides,  the 
results  of  contradictory  principles,  and  call  this  art.  I have  often 
heard  architects  complain,  because  the  industrial  were  gradually  sup- 
planting the  fine  arts,  and  the  special  schools  of  applied  sciences 
wrere  gaining  ground  on  the  school  of  fine  arts.  But  whose  fault  is 
this  ? If  architects  will  only  learn  to  reason  about  what  they  do,  if 
they  will  only  apply  analysis  to  their  designs,  if  they  will  only  cease 
to  believe  that  they  have  obtained  style  when  they  have  adorned  a 
façade  with  Greek  columns  or  Gothic  pinnacles,  without  being  able 
to  give  any  reason  for  their  use  of  such  forms,  they  will  soon  regain 
for  art  the  ground  which  it  is  losing  every  day.  It  is  true  that,  to 
obtain  this  result,  so  desirable,  so  necessary  I may  say,  for  the  real 
progress  of  art,  needs  courage,  tenacity,  and  conviction  ; it  requires 
an  abandonment,  without  scruple  or  false  shame,  of  all  those  vulgar 
prejudices  which,  from  infancy,  have  been  taught  us  as  laws  ; it  re- 
quires the  formation  and  the  ceaseless  application  of  judgment.  We 
must  try  to  do  as  the  Greeks  did,  who  invented  nothing,  but  trans- 
formed everything.  Our  admiration  of  them  must  not  be  content 
with  copying  their  works,  as  a clerk  copies  a manuscript,  without 
reading  it  ; we  must  read  the  book  and  fill  our  minds  with  it,  before 
copying  its  letter. 

Every  artist,  whether  musician,  architect,  sculptor,  or  painter,  may, 
by  means  of  a profound  knowledge  of  the  resources  of  his  art,  and 
by  a just  reasoning,  put  style  into  his  works,  for  study  and  observa- 
tion must  naturally  reveal  to  him  what  are  the  qualities  which  con- 


ECLECTICISM. 


187 


stitute  style  ; and  from  analysis  he  will  readily  pass  to  synthesis. 
Even  the  artist  who  possesses  sound  practical  information  only,  and 
no  genius  (and  it  is  as  well  to  assume  that  we  all  belong  to  this 
category),  can  readily  comprehend  style,  and  introduce  into  his  works 
that  quality  which  alone  will  cause  them  to  be  handed  down  to  pos- 
terity. As  we  have  come  late  into  the  world  and  are  embarrassed 
by  precedent,  it  is  very  difficult  for  us  to  have  new  ideas  ; it  is  as 
much  as  we  can  do  to  preserve  style  in  the  productions  of  our  art  ; 
but,  as  style  is  simply  the  result  of  the  application  of  common-sense 
to  an  object,  this  is  not  impossible.  Observe,  I do  not  confound 
style  with  manner  ; for  manner  is  to  style  what  affectation  is  to  ele- 
gance. Certain  privileged  natures  are  born  with  that  gift  which  we 
call  grace  ; but  observation,  the  habit  of  the  beautiful  and  the  good, 
which  is  taste,  may  lead  men  to  be  graceful  in  all  they  say  or  do  ; 
manner  is  but  the  superficial  imitation  of  style,  it  is  not  intelligence. 

The  artists  of  our  epoch,  and,  of  these,  the  architects  in  particular, 
are  weak  enough,  it  seems  to  me,  to  believe  themselves  geniuses  ; at 
all  events,  they  act  as  if  they  supposed  themselves  to  be  so.  When 
they  design,  they  mistake  the  vagaries  of  an  imagination  too  full  of 
memories,  but  without  convictions,  for  the  inspirations  of  genius  ; 
thus  they  produce  monstrosities.  Eclecticism  is  good  only  when  sub- 
mitted to  a wise  discrimination,  sure  of  its  knowledge  and  possessing 
decided  principles.  But  when  eclecticism  is  used  by  an  indecisive 
mind,  which  has  not  taken  time  to  obtain  convictions  by  means  of  a 
careful  and  intelligent  study  of  art,  it  becomes  an  evil  ; for  in  this 
case  it  necessarily  excludes  style  in  admitting  indifferently  all  the 
various  forms  and  expressions  of  historical  art,  without  knowing  how 
to  apply  any  one  of  them  properly  to  the  requirements  of  the  mo- 
ment. The  Egyptian,  the  Greek,  the  Roman,  the  Byzantine,  the 
Gothic  architectures  have  style  ; but  the  expressions  of  style  are  dif- 
ferent in  each,  because  each  proceeds  from  different  principles  to  sat- 
isfy different  needs.  How,  then,  if  you  have  no  convictions  founded 
upon  analytical  study,  can  you  put  style  into  your  designs  ? It  is 
very  easy  to  say,  “Take  from  every  quarter,  furnish  your  brain  with 
everything  which  seems  to  you  good,  then,  ihen  compose  ! ” But  I 
have  no  guide  ; you  have  not  habituated  me  to  reason  and  discrimi- 
nate ; I have  equally  at  the  point  of  my  pencil  the  temples  of 
Egypt  and  Greece,  and  the  vaulted  monuments  of  Rome  ; I have 
arches  and  lintels,  pointed  vaults  and  round  vaults  : you  have  told 


1S8 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


me  to  take  from  every  quarter  ; this  is  very  well,  if  I am  to  make  a 
collection  ; but  if  I am  to  produce,  what  shall  I do  with  all  these 
acquirements  ? Where  shall  I begin,  and  where  end?  Among  all 
these  excellent  things,  which  are  the  best,  or  which  should  recom- 
mend themselves  to  me  more  than  others  ? If  we  are  accustomed  to 
proceed  with  intelligence  in  designing,  if  we  have  a principle,  every 
labor  of  composition  is  possible,  if  not  easy,  and  pursues  a well- 
ordered  and  methodical  course,  whose  results,  if  they  are  not  master- 
pieces, are  respectable  and  must  have  style.  I know  not  whether 
poets,  musicians,  and  painters  are  ever  suddenly  inspired  to  write  an 
ode,  to  compose  a sonata,  or  paint  a picture  ; I am  inclined  to  think 
not,  because  no  poet,  musician,  or  painter  of  genius  has  ever  revealed 
to  us  any  such  phenomenon  in  his  experience.  The  sacred  fire  does 
not  kindle  itself  ; in  order  to  create  a blaze,  rve  must  heap  wood  and 
live  coals  together,  we  must  arrange  the  fagots  and  logs,  we  must 
blow  the  smouldering  pile  assiduously  before  it  breaks  into  flame. 
Then,  it  is  true,  if  everything  has  been  well  prepared  in  the  chimney- 
place,  the  fire  will  gradually  become  bright  and  crackle  and  emit  a 
grateful  heat  ; but/ 1 repeat,  all  this  is  not  obtained  without  labor. 

In  like  manner  when  an  architect  has  an  edifice  to  construct,  a hos- 
pital, perhaps,  a public  office,  or  a palace,  his  first  task  is  to  deduce 
some  order  from  the  programme  which  is  given  him,  as  this,  like  all 
written  programmes,  is  apt  to  be  confused  and  contradictory.  He 
must  satisfy  himself  regarding  its  real  requirements  and  their  relative 
importance,  without  occupying  himself  with  any  consideration  of 
architecture,  in  the  ordinary  use  of  the  term  ; that  is  to  say,  with  the 
decorative  envelope  in  which  the  structure  is  to  be  enclosed.  He  is 
content  for  the  present  simply  to  get  everything  in  place  ; he  takes 
care  to  subordinate  those  parts  of  each  division  of  the  programme 
which  seem  to  him,  on  examination,  to  be  mere  accessories  ; by  slow 
degrees,  its  intricate  and  complicated  conditions  thus  become  simpli- 
fied ; for  to  reduce  an  elaborate  problem  to  its  elements  needs  careful 
analysis  and  judicious  distribution.  Then,  having  arranged  the  dif- 
ferent wings  or  divisions  of  his  edifice  satisfactorily,  when  he  pro- 
ceeds to  unite  them  in  a grand  whole,  he  finds  he  must  recur  once 
more  to  the  work  of  simplification  ; the  whole  wants  unity,  the  con- 
nections between  the  different  divisions  are  awkward  and  artificial 
and  require  adjustment.  He  again  applies  himself  to  the  task  of  ar- 
ranging the  plan,  changes  from  left  to  right,  puts  that  in  front  which 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OE  A DESIGN. 


ISO 


was  behind,  and  returns  a hundred  times  to  the  disposition  of  details 
in  his  design.  Then  the  conscientious  architect  pauses  and  lays  aside 
the  sheets  covered  with  the  results  of  his  studies,  when  suddenly  he 
believes  that  he  has  discovered  in  his  programme  a principal  idea, 
subordinating  every  other  consideration.  Light  breaks  in  upon  him; 
instead  of  examining  the  proposition  before  him  in  detail,  to  arrive  at 
the  general  combination  of  the  whole,  he  reverses  the  operation  ; he 
discovers  that  until  then  he  has  had  but  a glimpse  of  the  true  re- 
quirements of  the  structure,  and  finds  that  its  various  apartments  and 
dependencies  should  be  submitted  to  a new  general  disposition,  on  a 
larger  scale,  affecting  all  their  mutual  arrangements  and  communica- 
tions. Thus  the  details  of  the  plan,  the  study  of  which  had  severally 
taxed  the  resources  of  his  mind,  assume  their  natural  positions.  The 
leading  idea  found,  the  accessories  arrange  themselves  without  diffi- 
culty. The  architect  has  become  the  master  of  his  programme,  he 
reviews  his  interpretation  of  it  with  deliberation,  he  completes  it  and 
brings  it  to  perfection.  But  if,  during  these  studies,  he  thinks  about 
the  orders,  the  works  of  the  Greeks  or  Romans,  of  Pierre  de  Monte- 
reau  or  of  Mansard,  he  is  lost,  he  is  overwhelmed  by  his  own  memo- 
ries, and  instinctively  sacrifices  some  practical  necessity  of  his  plan  to 
obtain  a desirable  architectural  effect,  to  repeat,  perhaps,  a motive 
from  the  Parthenon,  or  from  the  baths  of  Caracalla,  from  the  Sainte- 
Chapelle  or  the  Invalides.  No,  the  true  architect  does  not  allow  his 
mind  to  be  preoccupied  by  these  monuments  of  the  past.  Ilis  plan 
settled  upon,  his  elevations  are  a part  and  an  expression  of  them  ; he 
sees  how  he  should  construct  them,  and  the  dominating  idea  of  the 
plan  becomes  the  principal  feature  of  the  façades.  Considerations  of 
stability  and  of  the  most  economical  methods  of  construction  suggest 
to  him  the  character  of  his  exteriors.  ITe  must  adopt  some  form, 
but  he  does  not  wish  to  be  accused  of  imitating  the  architecture  of 
the  Romans,  that  of  Louis  XIV.,  of  Saint  Louis,  or  of  Francis  I.  ; he 
is  even  embarrassed  by  his  predilections  for  this  or  that  style,  lest 
he  be  seduced  by  these  from  the  capacities  of  his  programme  for  in- 
dividual and  original  expression.  He  makes  an  essay  upon  paper. 
“ This  part  of  my  design,”  he  says,  “ resembles  such  a monument  ; 
here  I have  an  order  which  recalls  such  a portico  ; there  are  windows 
which  are  mere  reproductions  of  those  of  such  a palace.  I must  re- 
ject all  these  ; I have  been  seduced  by  my  recollections  from  the 
true  requirements  of  my  building.  Let  the  material  I have  to  use, 


190 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


and  the  manner  in  which  I must  put  it  together  to  obtain  stability, 
govern  me  in  my  elevations.”  Then  arises  under  his  hand  a sort  of 
carcass  or  frame,  a combination  of  masses,  in  which  lie  proceeds  to 
make  the  exterior  appearance  a manifestation  of  the  interior  disposi- 
tions, to  cause  the  idea  of  the  plan  frankly  to  reappear  in  the  eleva- 
tion, and  to  decorate  or  subordinate  the  various  parts  according  to  its 
suggestions.  At  this  point  the  artistic  capacities  of  the  architect  be- 
gin to  be  tested  ; for,  to  have  a clear  head,  a practical  mind,  a power 
of  expressing  ideas  with  neatness  and  precision,  is  not  enough  ; if  he 
would  be  appreciated,  he  must  gratify  the  eye,  and  clothe  his  truth- 
ful expressions  with  graceful  and  attractive  forms.  The  discrimi- 
nating artist,  whose  passive  imagination  has  collected  numerous 
choice  precedents  and  classed  them  with  discernment,  has  discov- 
ered that,  in  all  the  arts,  including  Architecture,  the  means  of  ex- 
pressing ideas  are  really  very  few  ; that  grand  effects  are  obtained  by 
a very  simple  treatment  of  a dominating  thought  ; that  there  is  a 
measure  in  architecture,  as  in  music  and  poetry  ; that  the  laws  im- 
posed by  the  common-sense  of  mankind,  laws  which  are  to  the  eye 
what  morality  is  to  the  soul,  a natural  regulator,  applicable  alike  in 
the  midst  of  all  creeds  and  all  civilizations,  cannot  be  safely  disre- 
garded by  the  architect  ; that  his  merit  consists  in  being  able  to 
observe  these  laws,  without  repeating  architectural  forms  of  expres- 
sion which  have  been  previously  employed  ; and  that,  after  all,  these 
laws  are  entirely  independent  of  such  forms.  I propose,  by  and  by, 
to  return  to  the  consideration  of  this  subject  so  important  for  art,  — 
the  rules  imposed  by  sentiment  upon  form.  Tor  the  present,  I limit 
myself  to  following  the  architect  in  the  first  part  of  his  work,  and  up 
to  the  moment  when,  to  give  style  to  his  designs,  he  needs  only  defi- 
nite and  well-ordered  ideas,  and  to  know  how  to  express  those  ideas 
with  neatness  and  precision. 

Let  us  now  see  what  the  Greeks  did,  when  ancient  art,  in  its 
decline,  had  become  but  the  pale  copy  of  itself  ; let  us  see  ho:v, 
once  again,  as  in  the  time  of  the  republic,  they  became  the  initiators 
of  new  Western  arts,  and  how  they  modified  that  Roman  art  which 
had  been  made  to  prevail  over  all  Europe  and  a part  of  Asia. 

The  Romans,  under  the  last  emperors  who  preceded  Constantine, 
had  already  evinced  a decided  inclination  to  locate  the  centre  of  the 
empire  in  the  East.  In  Greece,  on  the  borders  of  the  Bosphorus, 


PI  l\ 


THE  BASILICA  OF  FANO. 


SECTION  ON  THE  LINE  A B IN  THE  PLAN. 


BIETH  OP  CHRISTIAN  ART. 


191 


in  Syria,  and  even  in  Persia,  they  had  built  important  cities,  and 
constructed  palaces  and  public  works  such  as  Rome  herself  never 
possessed.  In  these  countries  they  had  gradually  become  habitu- 
ated to  Asiatic  splendors  ; although  the  political  masters  of  Orien- 
tal nations,  they  had  allowed  their  arts  to  be  colored  by  Oriental 
taste.  When  at  last  definitively  established  at  Byzantium,  the 
Romans  found  there  the  elements  of  a Revival  ; if  they  did  not  ac- 
tively desire  this  Revival,  they  at  least  were  not  opposed  to  it. 
A new  worship  had  replaced  that  of  paganism,  and  everything  con- 
curred to  make  this  new  Renaissance  one  of  the  most  brilliant  epochs 
of  art.  Up  to  that  period  Christianity,  at  one  time  persecuted  and  at 
another  tolerated,  had  no  art  of  its  own  ; it  lived  upon  ancient  art, 
availing  itself  of  monuments  already  built,  without  seeking  to  give  to 
them  a distinctive  form  or  peculiar  dispositions.  As  a place  of  re- 
union for  the  faithful  Christians,  the  Roman  basilica  was  naturally 
the  most  convenient  edifice  ; and  I think  it  may  be  safely  asserted, 
that  the  arrangement  of  the  Roman  basilica,  the  civil  monument, 
exercised  a marked  influence  on  the  order  of  the  first  ostensible 
ceremonies  of  the  Christians.  But,  however  this  may  be  (for  it  is 
foreign  to  our  subject),  they  did  not  boast  of  possessing  any  peculiar 
art,  and  were  glad  to  avail  themselves  of  the  services  of  such  archi- 
tects, sculptors,  and  painters  as  were  at  hand  to  build  and  decorate 
their  civil  or  religious  monuments.  The  dwelling  of  a Roman  wor- 
shipper  of  Christ  differed  in  no  respect  from  that  of  a Roman  wor- 
shipper  of  Jupiter  ; each  possessed  slaves,  and  a legitimate  Avife  who 
lived  in  apartments  especially  assigned  her,  with  her  attendants  and 
children  ; both  passed  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  public  places, 
which  Avere  the  same  for  both,  save  the  church  for  the  Christian  and 
the  temple  for  the  pagan.  Christianity,  before  it  could  have  any 
influence  on  the  arts,  must  first  have  its  peculiar  manners  and 
customs  both  in  private  and  public.  Xoav,  among  the  Latin  con- 
verts, no  such  change  had  token  place  ; Avhile  among  the  Greeks, 
on  the  contrary,  with  their  peculiar  sensitiveness  to  religious  and 
philosophic  ideas,  Christianity  had  aroused  the  intellectual  faculties, 
and  occasioned  a mass  of  writings  and  discussions,  which  had  so 
affected  public  opinion,  that  even  those  Roman  emperors  who  lived 
among  the  Greeks  at  Byzantium  Avere  soon,  contrary  to  the  Avise 
traditions  of  the  empire,  draAvn  into  the  controversies,  and  maintained 
heresies  or  dogmas  against  all  comers.  It  Avas  then  that  the  new 


192 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


religion  began  to  have  its  influence  upon  art.  For  as  the  Greeks 
discussed  points  of  doctrine,  so  they  disputed  regarding  the  repre- 
sentation of  divine  persons  and  saints  ; they  protested  against  or 
approved  them  ; and,  approving  them,  their  efforts  were  that  these 
images  should  be  hieratic  ; that  the  Church  should  adopt  a conse- 
crated form.  The  emperors  themselves  mixed  in  these  scholastic 
discussions  regarding  forms  as  they  mixed  in  theological  discus- 
sions ; they  were  far  from  being  Automnes.  Meanwhile,  the  West 
fell  into  the  hands  of  barbarians  ; the  Roman  monuments,  which 
covered  the  soil  of  Gaul,  Italy,  and  part  of  Spain,  were  destroyed 
or  ravaged  ; and  for  many  centuries  the  most  profound  darkness 
reigned  over  these  countries,  which  previously  had  been  animated 
by  powerful  and  industrious  cities. 

The  emperors  at  Byzantium,  renouncing  henceforth  all  influence 
over  the  affairs  of  the  West,  lived  in  the  midst  of  Oriental  luxury,  and, 
as  I have  already  intimated,  soon  shared  in  the  restless  passions  of 
the  Greek  populations  among  which  they  were  established.  In  the 
mean  while,  art  was  transformed  ; the  Romans  carried  with  them  the 
vault  to  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus,  or,  if  they  found  that  feature 
already  existing  there,  they  at  least  imported  their  system  of  con- 
struction ; as  for  their  architecture,  to  which,  indeed,  we  have  seen 
they  attached  but  little  importance,  they  left  this  to  be  arranged  by 
the  taste  of  the  Greeks,  who,  always  subtle,  proceeded  by  degrees  to 
modify  it  essentially.  At  first  they  abandoned  the  Roman  orders, 
composed  of  columns  with  complete  entablatures,  and  gave  up  the 
use  of  the  column  itself,  save  as  a rigid  supporting  member  to  carry, 
not  horizontal  lintels,  but  arches  ; soon  they  ceased  to  admire  the 
Corinthian  and  composite  capitals  of  Rome,  as  not  presenting  at  their 
summits  sufficient  bearing  surface  to  receive  the  springing  of  their 
arches,  and  as  too  slender  and  delicate  in  their  character  for  the 
masses  of  construction  with  which  they  were  loaded  ; they  therefore 
dismissed  these  capitals,  enlarged  the  abacus,  and  covered  it  with 
such  superficial  sculpture  as  should  not  detract  from  its  solidity. 
Aiming  at  surprising  effects,  lours  de  force  of  architecture,  they 
endeavored  to  build  the  hemispherical  vault  of  Rome  on  four  points 
of  support  by  means  of  pendentives ,*  and,  as  in  St.  Sophia,  to  give 

* Pendentives,  in  Byzantine  architecture,  are  the  concave  surfaces  (spherical  triangles)  grow- 
ing upward  and  inward  from  the  tops  of  the  four  piers,  and  uniting  the  adjacent  arches,  thus 
reducing  the  square  plan  to  a round  plan,  whose  diameter  is  equal  to  the  side  of  the  square,  and 
from  which  springs  the  dome.  — Trans. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  BYZANTINE  GREEKS. 


193 


to  these  cupolas,  thus  suspended  on  four  isolated  piers,  dimensions 
until  then  unknown.  Justinian,  to  whom  is  attributed  the  construc- 
tion of  this  colossal  church,  was  much  interested  in  the  work  and 
visited  it  daily.  This  cupola,  which  fell  at  the  moment  of  its  com- 
pletion, wTas  finally  seated  upon  its  four  pendentives,  when  Justinian 
is  said  to  have  cried,  “ Glory  be  to  God,  who  has  judged  me  worthy 
of  completing  this  great  work  ! I have  conquered  thee,  0 Solomon  !” 
It  is  of  little  importance  whether  this  exclamation  was  actually  ut- 
tered by  Justinian,  but  it  is  of  great  importance  that  contemporary 
historians  have  imputed  it  to  him,  for  it  plainly  indicates  the  changes 
which  had  been  wrought  in  the  spirits  of  the  masters  of  the  em- 
pire. At  Rome  none  of  the  emperors  appeared  ever  to  have  lin- 
gered in  the  sheds  of  the  workmen,  and  certainly  none  were  ever 
known  to  have  made  the  construction  of  a building  an  important- 
affair  of  life.  The  Greeks  of  antiquity,  the  classic  Greeks,  were 
accustomed  to  boast  of  their  monuments,  they  were  very  proud  of 
them  ; but  the  Romans  hardly  mentioned  theirs,  they  were  content 
to  build  and  use  them.  A new  sentiment,  therefore,  animated  the 
minds  of  the  East  in  the  sixth  century;  this  sentiment,  a stranger  to 
the  Latin  character,  the  issue  of  Greek  vainglory,  this  tendency 
to  hyperbole  in  regard  to  the  creations  of  art,  had  a considerable 
influence  on  the  progress  of  the  arts,  an  influence  which  brought 
about  unexpected  results  a few  centuries  later.  Roman  art  at  By- 
zantium, renewed  thus  by  the  Greek  element,  prospered  for  a long 
time,  and  divided  into  branches,  into  whose  various  directions  and 
greater  or  less  geographical  importance  1 propose  briefly  to  inquire. 

Every  one  knows  that  shortly  after  Christianity  had  been  recog- 
nized as  the  religion  of  the  empire,  numerous  heresies  arose  in  the 
very  bosom  of  the  Church.  Among  these  heresiarchs,  Nestorius, 
Bishop  of  Constantinople,  was  exiled  in  the  year  431.  Obliged  to 
retire  to  the  city  of  Panopolis,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Nile,  he  was 
followed  and  surrounded  by  numerous  disciples  who  were  outraged 
at  the  injustice  which  they  supposed  had  been  done  him  in  sacrificing 
him  to  the  credit  of  St.  Cyril  ; these  heresiarchs  were  soon  favorably 
received  by  the  followers  of  Mahomet,  who  found,  among  the  pro- 
scribed, men  familiar  with  Greek  antiquity,  cultivated  in  the  arts  and 
accomplished  in  all  known  sciences.  It  is  very  probable  that  the 
Mahometans  employed  these  men  in  all  those  works  of  art  wdiich 
they  had  occasion  to  undertake,  when,  a nomadic  nation  ot  warriors 
13 


194 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


without  artists  or  workmen,  they  had  come  out  of  their  deserts  and 
established  themselves  around  the  outlying  provinces  of  the  Eastern 
empire.  Thus  it  would  seem  that  after  the  fifth  century  one  of  the 
branches  of  this  Byzantine  tree,  the  issue  of  Greek  and  Roman  arts, 
flourished  in  Asia,  in  Egypt,  in  Arabia,  in  North  Africa,  and  soon, 
by  way  of  Spain,  spread  even  into  the  southern  parts  of  the  extreme 
West. 

After  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians,  the  only  foothold  which  the 
Byzantine  emperors  could  maintain  in  Italy  was  their  exarchate  at 
Ravenna,  where,  about  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century,  that  is  to  say, 
a little  after  the  construction  of  St.  Sophia,  they  built  the  church  of 
San  Vitale.  This  was  almost  the  sole  Byzantine  landmark  planted 
on  the  Italian  soil.  In  the  course  of  the  eighth  century,  Leon,  the 
Isaurian,  elected  emperor  of  the  East  in  717,  having  embraced  the 
heresy  of  the  iconoclasts,  issued  many  edicts  to  suppress  sacred  im- 
ages. He  pushed  his  fanaticism  to  such  an  extent  as  to  persecute  all 
who  were  engaged  in  the  study  of  the  arts,  to  abolish  the  schools  of 
sacred  letters,  and  to  burn  the  libraries  ; whereupon  the  painters  and 
sculptors  took  refuge  on  the  shores  of  Italy  and  spread  over  all  coun- 
tries. It  was  among  these  emigrants  that  Charlemagne  found  artists 
to  aid  him  in  developing  the  Revival  which  he  projected.  Here 
was  another  path  by  which  the  Byzantine  arts  penetrated  into  the 
West,  while  the  Arabian  Mahometans,  developing  the  Byzantine  arts 
of  the  Nestorians,  spread  them  gradually  from  Egypt,  along  the  Afri- 
can shore  of  the  Mediterranean,  till,  as  already  observed,  by  way  of 
Spain,  they  invaded  the  extremities  of  Western  Europe. 

The  Eastern  empire,  in  the  eighth  century,  though  menaced  and 
enfeebled,  thus,  in  spite  of  itself,  spread  the  influence  of  its  arts 
throughout  Latin  Europe,  which  had  fallen  into  the  lowest  depths  of 
barbarism.  But  meanwhile  Roman  architecture,  which  had  left  so 
many  traces  throughout  Italy  and  Gaul,  reacted  against  this  foreign 
influence  with  more  or  less  success.  In  Italy,  especially,  the  old 
Latin  genius  admitted  with  great  reluctance  these  Byzantine  innova- 
tions ; and  even  in  Gaul  the  Roman  traditions  still  preserved  enough 
of  their  original  strength  to  be  only  modified,  and  not  destroyed,  by 
the  new  element. 

I do  not  pretend  here  to  write  the  history  of  architecture,  but  only 
to  give  an  idea  of  the  condition  of  the  arts  in  Europe  and  a part  of 
Asia,  at  a moment  when  the  traditions  of  antiquity  were  about  to  un- 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  BYZANTINE  GREEKS. 


195 


clergo  an  important  change  in  spirit  and  in  form.  In  the  absence  of 
existing  monuments  and  distinct  authority,  it  seems  to  me  unneces- 
sary here  to  enter  upon  the  question  whether  the  Visigoths  and  Lom- 
bards had  arts  peculiar  to  themselves  ; * for  evident  reasons  I shall 
abstain  from  entertaining  here  ingenious  but  doubtful  hypotheses  on 
this  subject.  Why  should  we  grope  and  speculate  in  darkness,  when 
we  can  proceed  confidently  in  the  light  of  facts  ? The  arts  of  the 
Latins  of  antiquity  are  perfectly  known  to  us  ; those  of  the  Byzantine 
Greeks  have  left  visible  traces  at  many  points  of  the  European  conti- 
nent; the  monuments  of  the  intermingling  of  these  two  arts  are  there 
before  our  eyes,  and  indicate  plainly  the  elements  of  which  they  are 
composed  ; why,  therefore,  attribute  to  a barbarous  people  influences 
over  art  which  could  only  have  been  exercised  by  a long  series  of 
traditions  ? A barbarous  people,  however  intelligent  we  may  sup- 
pose them  to  have  been,  could  only  possess  arts  after  they  had  be- 
come civilized,  and  they  could  have  become  civilized  only  by  the 
long  practice  of  the  arts  which  they  had  borrowed  from  their  neigh- 
bors or  found  upon  the  soil  they  had  occupied.  In  instructing  them- 
selves thus,  they  would  have  given  new  expressions  and  a new  turn 
to  their  models,  but  they  would  not  have  invented  ; indeed,  they 
would  have  approached  their  models  as  closely  as  they  could,  and  if 
they  had  corrupted  or  copied  them  without  skill,  they  would  have 
done  so  unconsciously.  I do  not  know  of  a single  monument  in 
Northern  Italy  which  can  be  attributed  to  the  Lombards  ; but  if 
there  exists  one,  I dare  to  affirm  that  it  resembles  a Latin  construc- 
tion, or  that  it  approaches  the  Byzantine  buildings  in  character.  The 
want  of  skill  alone,  with  which  the  types  would  have  been  translated 
by  them,  would  have  added  a barbarous  element  to  their  work,  in 
the  ancient  acceptation  of  the  word,  that  is  to  sajL  a foreign  element. 
But,  if  there  exist  no  Lombard  monuments,  there  are  structures, 
raised  by  the  Visigoths,  which  are  deserving  of  note  in  the  archi- 
tectural history  of  the  first  mediaeval  centuries.  But  these  are  only 

* Gregory  the  Great  said  of  the  Lombards  : “ Wherever  they  are,  there  is  weeping  and  wail- 
ing ; cities,  castles,  and  fields  are  devastated,  and  the  earth  is  made  a desert.”  M.  Léonce 
Raynaud,  in  his  “ Treatise  on  Architecture,”  seems  to  confound  the  Lombards  with  the  people 
afterwards  known  under  that  name,  who  were  in  reality  but  that  Latin  population  which  had 
been  overrun  by  the  Lombards.  This  is  but  one  of  the  equivocations  of  architectural  history. 
Far  from  erecting  churches,  the  Lombards  thought  only  of  destroying  them.  The  few  churches 
which  were  built  in  Upper  Italy,  during  the  dominion  of  the  Lombards  there,  were  the  work  of 
the  Latin  population,  who  in  the  midst  of  those  melancholy  days  of  invasion  had  still  preserved 
the  corporation  of  the  magistri  comacini. 


196 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Roman  structures  coarsely  understood  and  badly  executed.  To  at- 
tribute to  the  barbarians  an  expansive  influence  in  the  presence  of 
the  Latin  traditions  and  monuments,  which  at  that  epoch  were  still 
extant  in  Italy  and  Gaul,  and  in  the  presence  of  those  Greek  By- 
zantine arts,  which  were  then  shedding  a brilliant  lustre  over  the 
world,  is  very  much  like  maintaining  that  the  Italian  Renaissance  of 
the  fifteenth  century  was  provoked  by  the  Swiss  or  Westphalians. 

But  it  is  useless  to  dwell  longer  upon  a question  which,  though 
decided  in  the  negative  many  years  ago  by  the  strongest  evidence, 
has  for  some  unexplained  reason  been  lately  revived.  In  political 
history,  the  most  important  events  — those  which  have  exercised  the 
greatest  influence  upon  nations  — are  sometimes  attributed  to  very 
slight  causes  ; 1 always  find  it  hard  to  believe  such  theories,  and, 
when  applied  to  the  history  of  the  arts,  I reject  them  promptly  and 
decidedly.  The  progress  of  the  arts  is  deliberate,  inductive,  and 
logical  ; great  results  in  this  progress  can  only  be  obtained  after 
large,  consistent,  and  regular  efforts,  and  by  following  perpetuated  or 
revived  traditions,  the  course  of  which,  with  a little  investigation,  can 
readily  be  discovered.  If  there  are  sudden  revolutions  and  startling 
changes  in  politics,  there  are  none  in  the  arts,  and  especially  in  the 
art  of  architecture.  A people  makes  new  laws,  or  changes  its  re- 
ligious creed,  because  a law  is  but  a text,  a creed  reposes  upon 
dogmas  which  at  a given  moment  are  admitted  by  civilization  ; 
but  the  arts,  and  architecture  in  particular,  depend  essentially  upon 
traditions,  manners,  and  customs,  upon  the  resources  of  industry,  and 
upon  circumstances  which  human  power  can  modify  only  after  much 
study  and  many  experiments.  Europe  became  Christian,  yet  for  a 
long  time  preserved  the  manners,  forms,  customs,  and  consequently  the 
architecture,  of  pagan  antiquity  ; but  Christianity  must  change  these 
manners,  the  soil  of  Italy,  Gaul,  and  Spain  must  for  centuries  suffer 
tumultuous  irruptions  of  barbarous  hordes,  Roman  traditions  must 
disappear,  before  the  foundations  of  a new  art  can  be  laid,  and,  even 
then,  they  must  rest  upon  the  ruined  monuments  of  Roman  power  ; 
but,  above  all,  it  is  essential  that  the  ideas  which  are  to  create  such 
revolutions  should  take  a new  course.  Thus,  at  Byzantium,  the 
degenerated  Roman  spirit  was  absorbed  by  the  spirit  of  the  Greek, 
which  was  more  active  and  better  fitted  to  receive  Christianity.  In 
the  West,  Christianity  found  itself  in  the  presence  of  primitive,  bar- 
barous nations,  and  could  influence  them  much  more  readily  than  it 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  THE  GREEKS  AS  CIVILIZERS.  197 


had  the  old  Roman  organizations.  If  the  letters  and  arts  of  that  time 
were  to  be  revived,  Byzantium,  or  at  least  the  spirit  which  emanated 
from  the  Eastern  empire,  must  be  the  fountain-head  of  the  Revival. 

It  is  thus  from  the  antique  Greek  spirit  that  the  first  elements  of 
mediaeval  art  were  derived. 

I have  already  had  occasion  to  dwell  upon  the  distinction  between 
the  Greek  and  the  Roman  spirit  ; the  Greek  reasoned,  discussed,  and 
investigated  with  tireless  zeal  ; in  philosophy,  he  was  fertile  in  ideas, 
yet  never  settled  down  on  a conviction  ; but,  in  the  perfection  of  his 
intelligence,  he  perceived  that  this  incessant  unrest  of  the  mind  was 
dangerous  ; and  so,  as  soon  as  he  could  persuade  himself  that  a 
material  thing,  a form,  was  good,  he  declared  that  form  immutable, 
an  order.  At  Byzantium  the  Greeks  exhibited  the  same  contradic- 
tion, the  same  strange  opposition  between  their  instinct  and  their 
spirit  ; their  instinct  led  them  to  give  to  plastic  art  a hieratic  form, 
to  fix  material  beauty  so  that  the  tradition  of  it  might  never  be  lost, 
while  their  spirit  urged  them  into  every  walk  of  intellectual  inquiry, 
to  discuss  the  abstractions  of  philosophy  and  the  dogmas  of  religion. 
Seated  midway  between  the  East  and  the  West,  the  Greek  was 
endowed,  as  it  were,  with  double  faculties  : he  cherished  the  beau- 
tiful in  art,  as  an  immutable  principle,  with  tender  and  scrupulous 
care,  strenuously  when  necessary,  while  he  opened  to  modern  times 
the  boundless  fields  of  physical  and  moral  science,  and  of  philosophic 
discussion.  In  the  employment  of  the  arts  he  remained  antique,  else- 
where his  spirit  was  essentially  modern.  The  Greeks,  like  all  people 
who  have  been  the  leaders  of  civilization,  were  always  inclined  to 
place  themselves  in  opposition  to  the  nearest  dominating  influence. 
Thus  the  ancient  Greeks,  placed  against  the  great  immovable  back- 
ground of  Asiatic  nationalities,  presented  the  image  of  movement, — 
of  intellectual,  philosophic,  commercial,  and  artistic  activity.  But, 
on  the  contrary,  when  the  political  power  of  Rome  was  established 
among  them,  and  they  had  nothing  more  to  apprehend  from  that  great 
power  in  their  rear,  — the  enervating  influence  of  the  East,  which  to  its 
most  remote  boundaries  also  passed  under  the  yoke  of  the  empire,  — - 
their  position  in  the  history  of  civilization  was  reversed  ; so  that  when 
finally  the  West  fell  into  disorder  and  barbarism,  and  was  enveloped 
in  a profound  darkness,  which  threatened  to  overwhelm  the  whole 
civilized  world,  they  assumed  the  attitude  of  conservatives.  Thus 
the  Greeks,  who,  in  the  presence  of  Oriental  immobility,  made  them- 


198 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


selves  Occidentals  in  spirit,  at  a later  clay,  in  the  presence  of  western 
barbarism,  became  Orientals  ; so  that,  by  becoming  immovable  in 
their  turn,  they  might,  through  the  stormy  darkness,  remain  the 
guardians  of  civilization,  humanity,  and  the  arts.  We  are  justified 
in  proclaiming  the  Greek  people,  whether  by  instinct  or  by  calcula- 
tion, the  great  civilizers  of  ancient  and  Christian  Europe.  Through 
the  Dark  Ages  of  Europe,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  centuries,  they 
were  the  jealous  and  exclusive  protectors  of  letters,  arts,  and  indus- 
try, keeping  them  safe  from  all  change  in  a sacred  repository  of  faith- 
ful tradition;  as  if  they  thought,  through  that  sad  gap  of  history,  to 
transmit  intact  to  more  prosperous  times  the  accumulated  treasures 
of  knowledge.  The  very  people  who,  from  the  time  of  Augustus  to 
that  of  Constantine,  had  urged  art  into  every  path  of  caprice  and 
fantasy,  who  seemed  to  have  forgotten  style  and  all  its  requirements, 
and  who  had  lost  the  artist  in  the  artisan,  refinement  of  conception  in 
mere  elegance  of  mechanical  execution,  this  very  people,  from  the 
moment  when  they  found  themselves  face  to  face  with  actual  barba- 
rism, not  only  paused  in  their  path  of  decline,  but,  by  a supreme 
effort,  worthy  of  the  highest  admiration,  returned  to  the  pure  sources 
of  art,  — the  types  ; reconstituted  those  types  according  to  the  neces- 
sities of  the  time,  established  them  on  a firm  basis,  and  availed  them- 
selves of  the  remnants  of  the  powerful  imperial  Roman  organization 
for  protection  while  engaged  in  these  labors  of  modification.  While 
the  emperor  in  the  East  remained  the  Pontifex  maxim  ns  of  the  new 
worship  as  he  had  been  of  the  old  at  Rome,  while  he  was  the  chief 
of  a doctrine,  he  remained  also  the  chief  of  an  art  declared  immutable 
as  a dogma.  It  was  in  this  depository,  thus  religiously  preserved, 
that  for  many  centuries  the  reviving  West  came  to  seek  for  the  germs 
of  its  arts,  its  sciences,  and  its  industry  ; when  these  germs  were  at 
length  developed,  the  empire  of  the  East,  enfeebled  by  its  long  atti- 
tude of  immobility,  debauched  and  effete,  was,  in  its  turn,  over- 
whelmed in  the  flood  of  barbarism  ; so  true  it  is  that,  in  this  world, 
nations,  like  men,  have  a task  to  fulfil,  and,  when  the  work  is  done, 
they  disappear  forever. 

I have  endeavored  briefly  to  explain  how  Greek  art  influenced  the 
first  mediaeval  centuries.  It  is  now  necessary  to  explain  how  this 
influence  acted  in  the  West,  and  how  modern  arts  were  thence  de- 
veloped. 1 have  lately  said  that  the  Byzantine  Greeks,  after  the 
establishment  of  the  empire  among  them,  retraced  their  steps  and 


GREEK  INFLUENCE  ON  WESTERN  AET. 


199 


abandoned  the  freedom  which  had  distinguished  their  art  since  Peri- 
cles, to  shut  themselves  up  in  hieratic  forms  in  the  presence  of  the 
barbarism  of  the  West.  No  people  ever  understood  style  better  than 
the  Greeks  ; with  them  it  was  an  affair  of  instinct,  or  rather  of  rea- 
son. But  from  the  time  of  Pericles,  and  after  the  Peloponnesian 
wars,  Greek  art,  while  preserving  its  admirable  mechanical  execution, 
rapidly  tended  towards  realism.  Soon,  absorbed  in  the  irresistible 
power  of  Rome,  the  Greeks  became  the  entertainers,  the  artists,  the 
tamers  of  the  Roman  colossus.  Comprehending  at  once  that,  even  if 
they  had  been  able  to  conquer  and  possess  the  East,  they  would  have 
been  powerless  in  face  of  the  political  organization  of  the  Romans, 
they  resigned  themselves  to  the  task  of  becoming  the  instructors  of 
their  rude  protectors  in  the  arts,  in  philosophy,  and  in  polite  litera- 
ture ; but  while  communicating  to  their  indifferent  masters  all  that 
they  had  most  precious,  their  art  naturally  lost  that  delicate  perfume 
which  can  exhale  only  under  genial  skies.  A man  cannot  undertake 
to  tame  a barbarian  (and,  to  the  Greek,  the  Roman  was  barbarous), 
without  becoming  somewhat  of  a barbarian  himself;  and  woe  to  the 
artist  who  yields  to  a master  without  sympathy  for  matters  of  art  ! 
The  Greeks,  then,  very  sensibly,  did  not  amuse  themselves  by  dis- 
cussing questions  of  style  with  the  Romans,  for  they  knew  they  would 
not  have  been  understood,  and,  while  submitting  to  the  rigorous  con- 
ditions imposed  by  the  Romans  upon  their  architectural  problems, 
they  contented  themselves  with  the  more  humble  duties  of  the  deco- 
rator ; their  aim  was  only  to  gratify  the  pompous  taste  of  their  mas- 
ters, and  to  charm  them,  if  possible,  by  a brilliant,  if  not  elegant, 
execution.  They  did  what  was  wisest  under  the  circumstances  : 
they  obeyed,  and  tried  to  become  Romans  themselves.  But  when 
Christianity  became  the  worship  of  the  Roman  empire  established  at 
Byzantium,  the  Greeks  once  more  assumed  their  leading  position  in 
the  aj-ts.  Preserving  all  that  part  of  Roman  architecture  which  was 
peculiarly  Roman,  the  structure,  they  set  about  modifying  the  deco- 
ration in  the  manner  already  briefly  indicated.  In  construction  they 
allowed  those  bold  essays  which  harmonized  with  their  genius,  but 
these  essays  were  ever  systematic,  the  result  of  calculation  and  reason 
rather  than  of  caprice  and  fancy.  Such  a school,  based  upon  princi- 
ples severely  observed,  was  naturally  the  best  school  for  barbarous 
nations,  especially  when  these  nations  were  endowed  with  original 
genius  and  were  not  embarrassed  by  powerful  traditions. 


200 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Charlemagne  was  the  first  who  undertook  to  revive  the  arts  in  the 
West  ; but  all  that  lie  could  do,  with  the  resources  at  his  command, 
was  coarsely  to  reproduce  a few  monuments  entirely  Oriental  in  their 
origin.  He,  however,  proceeded  to  gather  together  artists  and 
grammarians,  manuscripts,  stuffs,  and  furniture,  from  Byzantium  or 
from  Lombardy,  which  was  then  under  the  influence  of  Byzantine 
art,  and  thus  introduced  among  the  barbarians  a knowledge  of  the 
productions  of  a high  degree  of  civilization  ; this  importation  did 
not  cease  until  the  West,  in  its  turn,  was  able  to  develop  an  art 
peculiar  to  itself.  In  order  to  form  schools  of  artists,  Charle- 
magne could  only  address  himself  to  that  class  of  men  who,  by 
the  necessities  of  their  profession,  were  students,  that  is,  to  the 
clerks.  The  Franks,  possessors  of  the  soil  by  right  of  conquest, 
were  too  much  occupied  with  warfare,  and  with  maintaining  them- 
selves in  their  domains,  to  think  of  the  cultivation  of  the  arts.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  cities  were  sufficiently  employed  with  questions 
of  their  own  self-preservation  and  defence;  and,  as  for  the  peasants 
and  slaves,  their  precarious  state  hardly  encouraged  the  idea  of 
devotion  on  their  part  to  the  study  of  art  and  the  pursuits  of 
peaceful  industry.  But  the  monks,  who  were  comparatively  tranquil 
and  independent,  soon  formed  schools  of  art,  from  which  graduated 
not  only  architects,  but  sculptors,  painters,  and  artisans.  Tims,  from 
the  French  monasteries  on  the  banks  of  the  Saone,  the  Marne,  the 
Rhine,  the  Loire,  and  the  Seine,  emanated,  during  the  three  centu- 
ries from  the  ninth  to  the  twelfth,  the  first  notions  of  art  in  Western 
Europe,  including  Italy  itself,*  though  there  are  those  who  main- 
tain that  it  was  in  Italy  that  all  the  western  arts,  from  the  time  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  originated.  But  against  this  theory  are  arrayed 
the  most  authentic  monuments  and  texts.  Italy  at  that  time  was 
plunged  in  anarchy,  exposed  to  every  misery,  and  was  not  in  a con- 
dition to  produce  architects,  much  less  sculptors  and  painters.  If 
convents  or  churches  were  required  there,  the  Italians  called  upon 
artists  of  the  Clunisian  order  of  monks,  or  they  availed  themselves 
of  the  services  of  a few  Greek  emigrants  who  had  been  constrained 
to  fly  from  their  country.  At  the  end  of  the  tenth  century  the  Vene- 
tians built  the  church  of  St.  Mark  : they  adopted  a Greek  plan,  an 
ornamentation  executed  by  Greeks,  and  used  columns  and  panels 

* See  the  “Dictionnaire  raisonné  d’  Architecture  ” of  M.  Viollet-le-Duc,  articles  Architecture 
and  Architecture  Monastique. 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  MEDLEY  AL  ART  IN  EUROPE. 


201 


of  marble  which  they  had  stolen  from  the  shores  of  Greece,  at  that 
time  exposed  by  the  feebleness  of  the  Eastern  empire  to  the  insults 
of  pirates  from  every  country.  In  the  North  of  Italy,  however,  the 
Italians,  during  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries,  raised  some  archi- 
tectural structures  ; but  in  the  remains  of  these  edifices  we  find  only 
indications  of  great  indecision,  feeble  recollections  of  antique  Ro- 
man architecture,  mingled  with  features  from  the  hands  of  Oriental 
artists.  As  for  the  southern  parts  of  the  Italian  peninsula  at  this 
melancholy  period,  history  gives  us  but  little  information.  The 
Moors,  established  in  Sicily,  ravaged  the  coasts  ; and  Rome,  long 
since  fallen  in  ruins,  lived  among  the  vast  remains  of  her  former 
glory,  or,  if  she  still  built,  it  was  only  by  putting  together  the  frag- 
ments strown  on  every  side  ; art  had  ceased  to  exist  there.  This 
ruined  country,  exposed  for  many  centimes  to  continual  devastations, 
without  industry  or  commerce,  the  prey  of  all  nations,  separated  as 
it  was  from  the  Eastern  empire,  and  with  no  inherent  principles  of 
life,  presented,  indeed,  the  saddest  spectacle.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  in  the  tenth  century  there  was  established  between  the  East 
and  southern  and  central  Gaul  an  extensive  commerce  ; Venetian 
merchants,  who  at  that  time  were  the  courtiers  of  Europe,  lived  at 
Limoges,  and  corresponded  with  the  East  by  way  of  the  ports  of 
the  Mediterranean,  and  with  the  North  by  way  of  the  western  coast. 
Thus,  during  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries,  the  relations  with 
Constantinople  were  of  the  most  intimate  character,  and  the  arts 
of  the  West  profited  accordingly. 

Let  us  now  see  among  what  populations  and  under  what  circum- 
stances the  arts  of  the  East  came  to  exercise  their  influence  in  the 
West.  When  the  Goths,  the  Franks,  and  the  Burgundians  succes- 
sively invaded  the  Gallic  soil  from  the  mouths  of  the  Rhine  to  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean  and  Armorica,  they  found  the  indigenous 
people  everywhere  practising  Roman  arts.  But  after  having  devas- 
tated the  cities  and  the  buildings,  the  new  conquerors,  when  they 
found  it  necessary  to  establish  and  defend  themselves,  could  only 
repair,  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  the  structures  they  had  sacked, 
or  imitate,  in  new  ones,  the  constructions  already  existing.  In  the 
West,  therefore,  the  Roman  structure  was  never  absolutely  aban- 
doned. But  when,  after  the  anarchy  which  followed  the  invasion, 
a sort  of  government  was  established,  the  taste  for  luxury  soon  af- 
fected the  new  possessors  of  the  soil,  and  they  desired  to  decorate 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


on- 

(CUi* 


these  rude  structures,  which  were  the  last  vestiges  of  Roman  architec- 
ture ; they  then  had  recourse  to  Oriental  artists,  and  in  a still  greater 
degree  to  objects  which  they  could  import  from  the  East,  such  as 
furniture,  stuffs,  utensils,  and  jewels.  While  preserving,  therefore, 
the  western  Roman  manner,  the  sculptors  and  painters,  after  the 
time  of  Charlemagne,  covered  their  buildings  with  ornamentation 
borrowed  from  these  foreign  importations.  Thus  a pattern  of  silk 
might  serve  as  a model  for  the  sculpture  of  a frieze  ; a casket  or  a 
dyptich  might  furnish  the  type  for  a bas-relief  to  decorate  a capital 
or  an  arch-panel  ( tympanum ).  In  this  manner  Roman  architecture, 
at  some  points,  assumed  a new  envelope,  while  at  others  the  local 
traditions  were  loyally  adhered  to.  During  the  ninth  and  tenth  cen- 
turies, the  Byzantine  influence  was  very  unequal  in  Gaul.  At  Peri- 
gueux,  for  example,  at  the  end  of  the  tenth  century,  a church  was 
built  entirely  Byzantine  in  plan  and  form,  but  Roman  in  its  decora- 
tive details  ; some  years  later,  on  the  Loire,  the  Seine,  and  the  Oise, 
monuments  were  erected  almost  entirely  Roman  in  plan  and  struc- 
ture, while  their  ornamentation  was  evidently  inspired  by  the  East. 

The  epoch,  during  which  this  mixture  of  Roman  traditions  and 
Oriental  importations  occurred  in  various  degrees,  is  conventionally 
called  in  Prance  Vepoqite  romane  (Romanesque).  But  as  there  was 
as  much  variety  in  the  union  of  these  two  elements  in  this  style 
throughout  Gaul  as  there  was  in  the  character  of  the  various  prov- 
inces composing  that  territory,  it  is  well  to  designate  to  which  we 
refer,  whether  we  speak  of  the  Romanesque  of  the  West,  that  of  the 
Rhone,  the  Saone,  or  the  Marne,  whether  it  is  the  Norman  Roman- 
esque, that  of  the  Ile-de-Erance  or  the  Romanesque  of  Poictiers.  At 
the  same  time  these  different  styles  have  an  air  of  consanguinity 
which  belongs  essentially  to  the  genius  of  Western  Europe. 

I have  elsewhere  * treated  this  subject  with  more  precision,  and 
in  doing  so  I believed  that  my  statement  that,  there  was  a French 
mediaeval  architecture  would  never  be  contested  by  any  one.  It  is 
clear  that,  in  speaking  of  a French  mediaeval  architecture,  I referred 
to  the  western  architecture  or  that  of  the  Gauls,  since,  during  a 
great  part  of  the  Middle  Ages,  France,  properly  speaking,  did  not 
exist.  Not  anticipating  any  discussion  on  this  point,  I took  no  pre- 
cautions ; I had  heard  that  educated  foreigners,  who  are  not  apt 
to  accord  to  us  what  is  not  ours,  recognize  and  study  a French 

* See  the  “ Dictionnaire  raisonné  de  1' Architecture  française.” 


A PLEA  POP  FRENCH  MEDLEVAL  ARCHITECTURE.  203 


mediaeval  architecture  ; it  never  occurred  to  me  to  doubt  its  existence. 
But  experience  lias  shown  that  it  is  necessary  to  take  up  this  ques- 
tion ; if  it  concerned  only  our  national  vanity,  I would  not  insist 
upon  the  existence  of  a French  mediaeval  architecture,  because  art 
has  no  country  ; but  it  involves  something  more  than  a foolish  sen- 
timent of  national  vainglory  ; it  is  a question  of  life  or  death,  of 
decline  or  progress,  for  western  art.  It  is  not  a matter  of  mere 
polemics,  to  overthrow  the  doctrines,  called  classic,  of  the  School  of 
Fine  Arts  ; but  it  is  nothing  less  than  the  rehabilitation  of  a mis- 
understood phase  of  art,  the  product  of  western  genius,  fashioned 
for  us  and  by  us,  through  a long  series  of  efforts  and  struggles, 
which,  though  pacific,  are  glorious  enough  to  excite  our  admiration 
and  sympathy.  I have  endeavored  in  these  Discourses  to  explain 
the  relations  which  have  always  existed  between  the  genius  of  known 
peoples  and  their  arts  ; in  order  to  avoid  doubtful  phrases,  I would 
state  that,  by  peoples,  I do  not  refer  to  populations  included  within 
certain  political  boundaries,  nor  yet  to  those  agglomerations  of  men 
who  have  no  mutual  relationships  of  race  or  natural  community 
of  ideas,  but  to  associations  under  the  dominion  of  a dominating 
thought,  moved  by  the  same  emotions,  to  associations  between  whose 
members  there  is  an  affinity  of  races  and  character.  Antique  and 
modern  civilizations  established  themselves  in  two  very  different 
ways  ; and,  as  it  is  well  always  to  have  a distinct  nomenclature  in 
the  physical  as  in  the  intellectual  world,  I would  say  that  there  is 
a sympathetic  civilization  and  apolitical  civilization.  I call  that  civ- 
ilization sympathetic  which  is  developed  in  the  midst  of  an  agglom- 
eration of  men  of  the  same  race,  or  in  the  midst  of  races  having  cer- 
tain mutual  affinities.  Such  civilizations  alone  possess  arts  peculiar 
to  themselves  ; and  the  Greeks  furnish  us  with  the  most  remarkable 
example  of  this  form  of  civilization.  I understand  by  political  civili- 
zation that  which  is  obtained  by  the  preponderating  influence  of  a 
people  (sometimes  of  a mere  handful  of  men),  whether  by  reason  of 
its  arms,  its  skill,  or  its  commerce,  over  vast  territories  occupied  by 
races  which  have  no  consanguinity  either  between  themselves  or  with 
their  conquerors.  Such  is  the  Roman  antique  civilization.  The  Ro- 
mans formed  a body  politic  or  administrative,  rather  than  a nation  ; 
there  was,  in  reality,  no  Roman  people , for  the  commons  who  filled 
the  streets  of  Rome,  at  least  during  the  empire,  do  not  deserve  the 
honor  of  this  distinction  ; there  was  a Roman  organization,  a Roman 


204 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


government,  — nothing  more.  Properly  speaking,  there  was  no  art 
at  Rome  ; there  was,  indeed,  a very  perfect  organization  of  arts 
belonging  to  foreign  peoples,  but  this  organization,  presenting  as  it 
did  at  every  step  the  strangest  contradictions,  cannot  be  considered 
the  true  artistic  expression  of  national  genius.  When  we  look  around 
us  in  Europe,  now  more  than  ever  before,  we  cannot  but  be  struck 
with  the  extent  of  the  influence  exerted  by  various  civilizations  upon 
art.  In  the  midst  of  invasions  and  political  catastrophes,  and  not- 
withstanding the  tendency  of  time  and  civilization  to  bring  all  things 
to  a common  level,  we  find  the  question  of  races  and  nationalities  as 
ardent  and  lively  as  ever  ; and  shall  we,  who  of  all  the  nations  of 
Europe  present  perhaps  the  most  striking  instance  of  a civilization 
resting  upon  unity  of  sentiment,  on  the  affinity  of  races  which  arises 
from  a common  habit  of  thought,  shall  Ave  have  no  distinctive  art  ? 
shall  not  this  unity  be  expressed  by  a single  visible  sign? 

The  Romans,  Avho  required  six  hundred  years  to  subjugate  the 
Italian  nations,  became  the  masters  of  Gaul  in  less  than  half  a cen- 
tury. This  proves  to  us  that  there  had  long  existed,  among  the  Gal- 
lic tribes,  notwithstanding  the  points  of  difference  betAveen  them  so 
clearly  stated  by  Cæsar,  a certain  homogeneousness.  ETp  to  the  end 
of  the  empire  the  Roman  domination  in  Gaul  Avas  never  contested, 
and  certainly  that  domination  could  only  tend  to  increase  the  unity 
existing  between  the  various  provinces  of  the  West.  Then  the  bar- 
barians, various  in  language  and  manners,  precipitated  themselves 
upon  the  Gauls  on  every  side  ; they  established  themselves  in  the 
territory,  disputed  the  soil,  waged  wars  among  themselves,  and  for 
many  centuries  used  every  expedient  to  break  the  unity  of  the  native 
tribes.  The  feudal  system,  also,  which  Avas  established  in.  a some- 
Avhat  more  regular  fashion  by  the  successors  of  Charlemagne,  seemed 
made  to  divide,  not  only  the  provinces,  but  the  domains  ; but  mean- 
Avhile,  after  the  eleventh  century,  Ave  perceive  the  slow  but  persistent 
and  continuous  tendency  of  the  various  Gallic  populations  towards  a 
national  unity.  These  Avestern  populations,  therefore,  Avhich  the  Ro- 
mans designated  as  Gauls,  had,  like  the  Greeks,  a peculiar  genius  ; 
and  since  they  Avere  almost  alone  in  the  West  in  this  respect,  Iioav 
could  they  be  without  peculiar  arts  ? But,  Avith  singular  inconsis- 
tency, those  who  Avere  the  first  to  recognize  this  constant  tendency 
of  the  Gallic  populations  toAvards  national  unity,  deny  that  they  had 
their  oavii  arts  ; they  do  not  attempt  to  explain,  they  merely  infer, 


A PLEA  FOR  FRENCH  MEDIEVAL  ARCHITECTURE.  203 


and  take  great  pains  to  prevent  the  public  mind  from  being  imbued 
with  the  idea  of  the  existence  of  a French  art,  and  present  it  as  the 
ingenious  dream  of  a few  minds  led  astray  by  a mania  for  system. 
The  energy  with  which  this  idea  is  rejected  makes  us  energetic  to 
discover  the  principal  causes  of  such  a strange  opposition,  — it 
shows  us  the  importance  of  unveiling  the  truth,  and  leads  to  the 
inevitable  inference  that  the  idea  thus  opposed  is  one  not  easily  to 
be  rooted  up.  Among  people  who  are  not  artists,  the  causes  of 
this  opposition  to  the  idea  of  a French  mediaeval  art  lie  in  a vulgar 
dislike  of  all  French  mediaeval  institutions,  as  if  the  arts  were  the 
result  of  those  institutions,  instead  of  being  the  most  vivid  expression 
of  the  reaction  of  the  indigenous  races  against  the  odious  tyranny 
of  feudalism  ; among  the  architects,  the  opposition  is  based  on  a 
false,  irrational,  incomplete  education,  and  in  their  dislike  for  such 
studies  as,  leading  them  away  from  easy  routine,  require  an  incessant 
investigation  of  the  truth,  and  a knowledge  of  our  genius  and  in- 
stincts, judgment,  in  short,  rather  than  formulas  ; in  the  habitual 
indolence  of  minds  unaccustomed  to  use  the  reasoning  faculties,  it 
must  be  acknowledged  that  they  have  arrived  at  the  point  of  regard- 
ing inspiration  as  mere  fancy,  instead  of  the  result  of  profound  calcu- 
lation and  of  deliberate  and  thoughtful  labor. 

It  is  undeniable  that  the  institutions  of  the  Middle  Ages  left,  sad 
traces  on  the  political  history  of  France  ; but  the  native  artists  of 
that  era  were  the  first  apostles  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the  op- 
pressed classes  ; they  were  the  first  who  were  elevated  by  intelligent 
labor  and  the  pursuits  of  science  ; the  first  who  awakened  mankind 
out  of  the  profound  slumbers  of  antiquity  and  the  barbarism  of  the 
earliest  Christian  centuries.  Their  works  are  visible  protestations 
against  ignorance,  wherever  it  existed.  The  cry  of  the  oppressed 
must  not  be  confounded  with  the  cry  of  the  oppressor,  on  the  ground 
that  in  the  tumult  they  cannot  be  distinguished  from  each  other. 

It  is  therefore  in  that  corner  of  Western  Europe  which  we  call 
France,  and  there  alone,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  that  we  find  the 
constituent  elements  of  a national  art,  because  there  alone  such  ele- 
ments were  a part  of  the  national  character.  Elsewhere  there  were 
cities,  associations  of  merchants,  political  constitutions  more  or  less 
complete,  brilliant  individualities  ; but  nowhere  else  can  avc  find  a 
country  tending  toAvards  nationality,  moved  by  community  of  senti- 
ments in  the  direction  of  intellectual  unity  or  inspired  by -the  same 


206 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


common  faith  in  the  future.  Thus  it  is  particularly  in  France  that 
the  Christian  idea  as  applied  to  the  arts  found  the  least  embarrass- 
ment in  its  development. 

Hut  what  is  the  Christian  idea  as  applied  to  the  arts? 

Christianity,  with  its  new  worship  and  its  new  dogma,  sowed,  in 
the  midst  of  the  old  Latin  world,  the  seeds  of  incessant  progress,  of 
spirituality  as  opposed  to  materialism,  of  moral  and  political  enfran- 
chisement, of  solidarity,  of  equality,  of  continual  revolt  against  bru- 
tal force.  The  part  played  by  the  ancient  Greeks  in  the  presence  of 
Asiatic  immobility,  till  they  were  interrupted  by  the  political  power 
of  the  Romans,  was  assumed  in  turn  by  the  Christians  of  the  West  ; 
and  as,  among  men,  the  same  causes  lead  to  analogous  results,  the 
arts  of  the  West,  though  starting  from  principles  opposed  to  those  of 
Greek  antiquity,  were  developed  in  the  same  manner,  possessed  an 
appropriate  style  based  upon  reason  and  investigation,  flourished  like 
them,  and  never  paused  till  at  length,  from  a progress  by  wholesome 
induction,  they  passed  to  caprice  and  fancy,  and  fell  by  abuse  of 
their  own  principles.  But,  again  like  Greek  art,  the  mediaeval  art 
of  the  West,  although  of  short  duration,  has  become  an  inexhaust- 
ible soiu'ce  of  information  for  all  who  would  consult  it  in  modern 
times. 

It  has  been  reiterated  so  often  that  we  Frenchmen  are  Romans, 
that  we  have  blindly  admitted  the  statement  into  our  creeds.  Be- 
cause our  language  is  derived  from  the  Latin,  because  our  laws  are 
in  part  copies  of  those  of  the  Romans,  and  because  for.  three  hun- 
dred years  we  have  persisted  in  making  very  bad  imitations  of  Roman 
monuments,  we  really  believe  that  we  are  Latins.  Let  us  examine 
this  question.  The  Romans  were  not,  and  did  not  profess  to  be, 
artists  ; but,  as  has  been  repeatedly  stated,  all  their  artists  'were 
Greek  ; the  Roman  constructed,  but  he  had  no  care  for  the  form  in 
which  his  construction  was  enclosed.  And  when  he  had  settled  upon 
a construction  as  good,  it  became,  as  it  were,  a law,  which,  even 
to  the  last  days  of  the  Lower  Empire,  continued  to  be  observed 
with  peculiar  fidelity.  The  Romans  never  discussed  questions  of  ar- 
tistic principle  ; they  were  never  enthusiasts  ; they  were  politicians, 
legislators,  administrators  ; they  were  neither  commercial,  industrial, 
learned,  nor  philosophic;  for  every  Roman  philosopher  and  savant 
drew  all  his  inspiration  from  Greek  sources  ; they  troubled  them- 
selves little  about  enlightening  the  human  race  or  communicating 


FRENCH  GENIUS,  GREEK,  NOT  ROMAN. 


207 


ideas  and  principles  ; they  were  content  to  govern  nations  and  leave 
them  as  they  were  ; they  administered,  but  they  did  not  civilize. 
Now,  what  was  the  case  in  the  West,  from  the  time  when  we  emerged 
from  barbarism  up  to  the  seventeenth  century  P Just  the  reverse  : 
we  were  bad  politicians,  miserable  legislators,  and  poor  administra- 
tors ; so  far  from  governing  others,  we  hardly  knew  how  to  govern 
ourselves.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  find  that  schools  were  opened 
in  Paris  in  the  twelfth  century,  and  all  Europe  flocked  to  them  ; we 
studied  the  Greek  philosophers.  It  was  at  Paris,  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  that  the  encyclopaedic  movement  began,  and  the  movement 
has  been  continued  down  to  our  day  ; it  was  at  Paris  that  learning 
flrst  began  to  pierce  through  the  darkness  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
There  scholars  and  men  of  letters  disputed  on  every  occasion  and  on 
every  subject  ; they  reasoned,  analyzed,  wrote,  and  investigated  cease- 
lessly. Finally,  an  art  arose,  cloister-bred,  the  issue  of  Roman  tradi- 
tions and  Byzantine  influences,  — the  Romanesque  or  rouncl-archecl 
style.  Before  long  this  was  developed  into  a new  style,  the  Pointed, 
practised  exclusively  by  laymen  ; and  this  style,  the  daughter  of 
geometry  and  of  the  newly  discovered  laws  concerning  the  equi- 
librium of  forces,  was  industriously  pushed  on,  till  finally  it  passed 
beyond  the  point  of  natural  and  healthy  development.  The  in- 
ferior classes  coalesced,  and,  by  force  or  address,  obtained  privileges  ; 
then  there  arose  among  them  merchants,  agriculturists,  mechanics, 
who  covered  a great  part  of  Europe  with  the  results  of  their  indus- 
try. France  at  this  period  had,  it  is  true,  like  the  Romans,  the 
spirit  of  conquest  ; but  it  did  not  have  their  spirit  of  tenacity  with 
respect  to  conquests  ; for  Frenchmen  did  not  know  how  to  live  out- 
side of  their  country  and  away  from  their  national  sympathies  and 
habits.  England  is  wherever  the  English  are;  but,  for  the  French, 
France  is  only  in  France.  The  Romans  made  war  only  to  insure 
and  extend  their  material  power,  to  colonize  barbarous  countries, 
and  to  enrich  themselves.  They  stole  from  those  countries,  not  only 
their  products,  their  slaves,  and  their  wealth,  but  such  usages  as  they 
thought  good  ; in  exchange,  they  gave  the  conquered  nations  a pro- 
tection, which  was  sometimes  illusory,  forms  of  government  and 
administration,  agriculturists,  prefects,  roads,  bridges,  canals,  and 
buildings.  France,  on  the  contrary,  took  from  her  neighbors  neither 
their  customs  nor  their  ideas,  but  often  gave  them  her  own.  In 
short,  if  she  is  Roman,  in  what  respect  is  she  so  ? 


208 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Thus,  dating  from  the  eleventh  century,  Western  Europe,  although 
appropriating  the  works  of  antiquity  and  making  them  the  base  of  all 
its  architectural  studies,  began  to  produce  a new  style  of  art  which 
belonged  to  it,  and  which  was  very  far  from  being  Roman.  It  is 
customary  to  assert  that  the  Crusades  exercised  considerable  influence 
over  western  art.  But  facts  evidently  contradict  this  hypothesis. 
The  first  Crusade  took  place  in  1096,  the  second  in  1147  ; and  it 
was  precisely  in  the  twelfth  century  that  the  arts  of  architecture  and 
sculpture  in  the  West  underwent  a transformation  indeed,  but  one 
which,  so  far  from  bringing  them  nearer  to  Oriental  art,  removed 
them  farther  from  it.  These  questions,  generally  treated  by  amateurs 
and  not  by  architects,  have  always  been  examined  in  a superficial 
manner  ; these  authors  have  misused  dates,  have  deduced  sudden 
conclusions  from  appearances,  and  have  theorized  without  investiga- 
tion ; the  error  has  been  repeated,  and  finally  has  been  established  as 
unquestionable  truth.  It  becomes,  then,  difficult  to  enforce  a new 
theory  based  upon  a thorough  study  of  the  subject.  Yet  this  is  the 
task  I have  laid  out  for  myself.  This  study  we  should  regard  as 
something  more  than  a mere  archaeological  question,  and  I shall 
not  try  to  conceal  that  my  real  aim  in  pursuing  it  is,  not  only  to 
explain  the  origin  of  modern  art,  but,  as  a consequence,  its  true 
path  of  progress.  I believe  this  is  the  only  way  to  obtain  for  this 
art  a fruitful,  free,  and  unrestrained  development.  It  is  a maxim 
which  should  be  engraved  in  the  hearts  of  all  architects,  that  we  must 
first  know  what  we  are  before  we  can  know  what  we  should  and 
-can  do. 

No  sooner  was  western  art  disengaged  from  barbarism,  than  it 
manifested  tendencies  opposed  to  the  fundamental  principles  of 
Roman  art.  This  movement  began  where  the  arts  were  practised 
after  the  Revival  attempted  by  Charlemagne,  — in  the  cloisters,  and 
especially  in  the  eleventh  century,  when  the  monks  of  Cluny  had  at- 
tained their  greatest  splendor.  At  this  time  these  western  monks 
sought,  not  only  new  combinations  of  plans,  but  a system  of  con- 
struction established  upon  laws  which  the  Romans  either  did  not 
know  or  did  not  admit.  As  for  statuary  and  painted  or  sculptured 
decorations,  these  were  frankly  obtained  from  Byzantine  njotives. 
But,  as  regards  the  disposition  of  plans  and  construction,  the  west- 
ern architects,  even  so  early  as  the  tenth  century,  aimed  to  con- 


C H AR  ACTE  El  STIC  DEVELOPMENTS  IN  CHRISTIAN  APT.  209 


ciliate  two  conflicting  principles,  and  thus  entered  at  once  into  op- 
position to  the  laws  laid  down  by  the  Romans.  The  Roman  plan 
indicated  perfectly  whether  the  building  was  vaulted  or  covered  with 
a wooden  roof.  If  the  edifice  was  vaulted,  like  the  greater  part  of 
the  Baths  of  Caracalla,  the  plan  was  solid  ; the  masses  of  the  struc- 
ture were  arranged  in  such  a manner  as  to  offer  resistance  to  every 
thrust  of  the  vaulting  : it  was  a system  of  cellular  construction.  If 
it  was  not  vaulted,  it  resembled  the  Greek  plan,  and  was  composed 
only  of  longitudinal  walls  and  of  points  of  support,  which,  as  they 
bore  only  a vertical  weight,  were  slender.  The  Greek  plan  was  easy 
to  trace,  was  simple,  economical,  and  exacted  but  few  materials. 
But  the  Roman  plan  required  complicated  and  scientific  combina- 
tions, and  was  very  costly  on  account  of  the  prodigious  masses  of  ma- 
terial which  it  called  for  ; according  to  the  Roman  method  of  con- 
struction, a building  had  to  be  erected  with  rapidity,  thus  requir- 
ing extensive  resources  of  labor  and  transportation,  and  the  establish- 
ment, on  the  site  of  the  work,  of  a great  depository  of  building  ma- 
terials. Neither  the  monks  nor  the  nobles  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh 
centuries  possessed  the  immense  resources  of  men  and  material  which 
the  Romans  had  at  their  command  throughout  the  empire,  and  they 
were,  therefore,  constrained  to  abandon  the  Roman  plans  in  favor  of 
the  simpler  arrangement  of  the  basilica,  or  of  such  unvaultecl  build- 
ings as  the  Greeks  were  accustomed  to  erect.  Yet  it  was  not  long 
before  they  recognized  the  utility  of  vaults,  especially  in  the  damp 
and  changeful  climates  where  they  were  called  upon  to  build.  The 
wooden  roofs  they  had  erected  were  destroyed  by  fire  or  rapidly  de- 
teriorated. The  architects,  therefore,  while  they  desired  to  retain, 
both  for  their  civil  and  religious  structures,  the  simpler  arrangement 
of  plan  to  which  we  have  referred,  were  soon  entirely  occupied  by  the 
idea  of  replacing  the  wooden  roofs  by  vaults.  Here,  then,  were  the 
two  conflicting  principles  for  the  first  time  brought  together.  1 have 
elsewhere*  detailed  the  numerous  efforts  of  Romanesque  art  to  con- 
ciliate them.  It  will  be  enough  for  our  present  purposes  to  indicate 
the  principal  results  of  these  efforts.  At  first,  a greater  thickness 
was  given  to  the  longitudinal  walls,  to  enable  them  to  resist  the 
thrust  of  the  vaulting  ; but  this  expedient  was  soon  found  to  be  not 
only  costly,  but  insufficient  in  constructions  on  a large  scale.  Next 

* See  the  “Dictionnaire  raisonné  de  l’Architecture  française  du  X°  au  XVI0  siècles.”  Arti- 
cles Architecture  and  Construction. 

1± 


210 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  thrust  was  divided  by  cross-vaulting  so  as  to  bear  on  certain 
points  which  were  strengthened  for  the  purpose  by  pilasters  or  piers 
built  in  the  wall.  Then,  in  order  to  leave  the  interiors  free,  these 
piers,  to  resist  the  oblique  thrusts,  were  built  upon  the  outside  of 
the  structure,  which  was  equivalent  to  building  a structure  and  mak- 
ing all  the  points  of  support  independent,  as  it  were,  of  the  struc- 
ture itself,  like  stays  or  props.  Stability  was  then  given  to  these 
exterior  points  of  support  by  surmounting  them  with  heavy  weights 
in  the  form  of  pinnacles,  rather  than  by  enlarging  their  area  or  pro- 
jection. By  these  successive  experiments,  results  were  at  last  ob- 
tained very  different  in  character  from  the  point  of  departure,  and 
resembling  neither  the  simple  principles  of  Greek  art  nor  those  of 
Roman  or  Byzantine  art. 

A diagram  will  explain  the  transformations  which  the  ancient 
basilica  covered  by  a wooden  roof  sustained  before  arriving  at  the 
vaulted  basilica  of  the  thirteenth  century  (Fig.  24).  A is  the  plan  of 


Fig.  24. 


a Roman  room  or  basilica,  with  a nave  and  two  aisles,  covered  by  a 
wooden  roof.  When  the  Romanesque  architects  desired  to  replace 
this  roof  by  a vault,  they  gave,  as  in  B,  greater  thickness  both  to  the 
detached  piers  within  and  to  the  longitudinal  walls.  But  these  pre- 
cautions were  found  to  be  insufficient  ; the  walls  spread,  and  the 
edifice  threatened  to  fall.  They  then,  as  in  C,  instead  of  the  con- 
tinuons round-arched  vault,  established  cross-vaulting,  opposite  the 


Fig.  25. 


TRANSFORMATIONS  OF  THE  BASILICA. 


211 


thrusts  of  which  they  projected  exterior  buttresses.  Then,  finding 
that  the  longitudinal  walls  between  the  buttresses  were  useless,  they 
arrived  at  the  plan  D.  In  reality,  the  edifice  occupied  only  the  space 
between  E F.  The  buttresses  G,  to  which  were  communicated  all 
the  oblique  thrusts,  were  built  on  the  outside.  Thus  the  longitudinal 
walls  I K of  the  plan  A were  cut  into  sections,  and  these  sections 
placed  at  right  angles  to  their  original  position  ; the  same  surface 
was  thus  occupied  in  plan  by  the  solids,  but  the  powerful  lateral 
resistance  presented  by  the  last  arrangement  allowed  the  construction 
of  vaults  with  impunity.  All  this  seems  very  simple  ; yet  it  involved 
an  entire  revolution  in  the  art  of  building,  - — it  was  a complete  rup- 
ture with  the  ancient  methods.  Three  centuries  of  successive  trials 
elapsed  before  this  new  principle,  whose  consequences  were  capable 
of  infinite  expansion,  was  definitely  established.  While  the  system 
of  construction  was  undergoing  these  modifications,'*  the  forms  of 
art  were  submitting  to  a corresponding  revolution  which  is  apparent 
to  the  most  careless  observer. 

The  Greek  orders  of  architecture  were  the  structure  itself  ; they 
represented  but  one  mode  of  building;  the  appearance  and  the  struc- 
ture of  Greek  edifices,  therefore,  were  essentially  one  and  the  same 
thing.  We  cannot  deprive  a Greek  monument  of  the  order  which 
forms  its  principal  decorative  feature  without  destroying  the  monument 
itself.  It  needs  but  a glance  at  a Greek  ruin  to  recognize  that  the 
Doric  or  Ionic  order,  of  which  the  architect  availed  himself,  is  the  mon- 
ument itself.  The  Greek  orders  are  nothing  more  than  the  structure, 
to  which  have  been  given  the  forms  best  suited  to  the  various  functions. 
But  the  Romans,  in  the  orders  which  they  took  from  the  Greeks,  saw 
only  a decorative  means,  which  could  lie  removed,  interchanged,  or 
replaced  by  something  else,  without  the  necessity  of  altering  the  con- 
struction of  the  edifice,  which  the  orders  were  used  to  decorate. 
(I  do  not  of  course  refer  here  to  Roman  temples  built  after  Greek 
examples.)  I believe  I have  already  sufficiently  explained  this  fact 
in  Roman  architecture.  Yet  the  Romans,  inspired  by  a positive  and 
practical  spirit,  often  recognized  that  this  way  of  applying  Greek 
orders  to  structures,  dissimilar  in  every  essential  respect  to  Greek 
buildings,  was  unreasonable  and  false.  They  therefore,  in  a great 


* I do  not  think  it  necessary  to  dwell  here  at  greater  length  on  the  various  transformations 
to  which  Western  art  submitted  from  the  ninth  to  the  thirteenth  centuries,  having  explained 
their  history  in  the  “Dictionnaire  de  l’Architecture  française,”  in  the  article  Construction. 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


212 


many  of  their  edifices,  such  as  theatres,  amphitheatres,  and  palaces, 
engaged  the  orders  in  the  building  itself,  that  is  to  say,  they  built 
the  columns  up  in  the  walls  and  used  them  as  buttresses  to  give 
greater  area  of  plan  to  those  parts  resisting  thrusts,  thus  obtaining 
at  the  same  time  an  exterior  or  interior  decoration.  But  it  must  not 
be  supposed  that  the  Romans  invented  this  application  of  the  orders  ; 
the  Greeks  understood  this  principle  of  engaged  orders,  and  fre- 
quently used  it  : one  of  the  most  remarkable  examples  of  its  employ- 
ment by  them  is  the  temple,  or  basilica,  of  Agrigentum,  called  of  the 
giants  (Rig.  26).  But  1 do  not  believe  the  Greeks  ever  thought  of 
superimposing  engaged  orders,  as  the  Romans  did  in  the  exterior  of 
the  theatre  of  Marcellus,  in  the  Coliseum,  and  in  a great  many  other 
structures.  The  Greeks,  in  using  the  engaged  orders,  were  impelled 
by  a different  impulse  from  that  which  actuated  the  Romans  under 
similar  circumstances.  The  Romans  simply  used  them  as  buttresses 
presenting  a decorative  form  with  which  they  were  familiar.  They 
built  in  one,  two,  or  three  stories,  and  piled  one,  two,  or  three  orders 
on  top  of  each  other  (Fig.  25),  like  superimposed  piers  or  buttresses. 
But  they  reasoned  so  little  in  such  matters  as  giving  to  an  object  the 
form  suited  to  its  attributes,  that  they  placed  on  each  range  of  these 
engaged  shafts  its  complete  entablature,  as  if  each  order  was  to  be 
the  termination  of  the  edifice.  Now  if,  in  this  case,  the  engaged 
columns,  A,  can  be  regarded  as  buttresses,  and  as  presenting  a util- 
ized decoration,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  projecting  entablatures, 
B,  laid  from  the  top  of  one  column  to  the  top  of  another,  are  rather 
injurious  than  necessary  to  the  solidity  of  the  structure,  and  that  the 
leverage  exercised  by  their  projection  can  only  weaken  the  construc- 
tion of  the  wall.  Here  there  is  a want  of  fitness,  and  consequently 
of  taste.  It  is  bad  reasoning,  or  no  reasoning  at  all.*  It  may  be 
said,  if  this  decoration  satisfies  the  eye,  the  real  end  of  art  is  obtained. 
But  there  are  rules  imposed  on  architecture  by  the  natural  laws  of 
statics,  whose  importance  any  one,  even  if  he  is  not  an  architect,  can 
recognize.  Thus  everv  one  can  see  that  a column  must  not  be  more 
slender  at  its  base  than  at  its  summit.  The  eye  instinctively  admits 

* But  the  Romans  were  not  always  so  false  to  the  true  principles  of  architecture.  Thus  the 
two  superimposed  orders  between  the  arches  of  the  two  stories  of  the  arena  at  Nismes,  on  the 
outside,  are  treated  like  real  buttresses,  the  lower  order  being  composed  of  projecting  piers,  the 
upper  of  engaged  columns  ; and  the  entablatures  are  used  as  a block  over  each  pier  or  column, 
and  do  not,  as  in  the  theatre  of  Marcellus  or  the  Coliseum  at  Rome,  form  continuous  projecting 
courses,  so  clumsily  and  uselessly  extending  around  the  monument. 


Fig.  26. 


ROMAN  USE  OR  COLUMNS  AS  BUTTRESSES. 


213 


this  without  the  intervention  of  reason,  which  only  confirms,  analyzes, 
and  explains  the  instinct,  just  as  written  laws  serve  only  to  define  the 
instinctive  sentiment  of  good  and  evil,  of  justice  and  injustice. 

The  Greeks,  on  the  other  hand,  when  they  engaged  orders  in  the 
construction,  proceeded  on  a true  principle.  As  the  order,  with  them, 
could  oiily  be  the  expression  of  the  structure,  if  they  desired  to  en- 
close the  space  surrounded  by  the  order  by  building  a wall  between 
the  columns,  as  had  been  done  before  them  by  the  Egyptians  and 
Assyrians,  this  wall  was  treated  simply  like  a thick  partition,  whose 
only  duty  was  to  act  as  a screen,  and  not  as  a support.  To  use  col- 
umns as  points  of  resistance,  piers,  or  buttresses,  bearing  the  weight 
of  an  entablature  with  the  roof,  and  then  to  shut  up  the  interco- 
lumniations  with  a light  construction,,  a screen- wall,  as  was  done  in 
the  great  Basilica  of  the  Giants  at  Agrigentum  (Fig.  26),  was  to 
reason  very  wisely  ; but  to  treat  the  voids  as  if  they  were  the  solids, 
the  screen-walls  as  if  they  were  the  necessary  construction,  and  the 
buttresses  as  mere  decorative  features,  as  was  done  habitually  by  the 
Romans  at  a later  day,  was,  with  all  due  respect  to  the  Romans  and 
their  infatuated  imitators,  very  barbarous  reasoning.  But  the  Ro- 
mans went  even  further  than  this  in  the  broad  path  of  absurdity  ; 
they  built  archivolts  under  the  projecting  entablatures  of  the  engaged 
orders  (see  Fig.  25).  1 have  already  said  that,  in  the  eyes  of  a 

Greek,  this  would  be  considered  the  height  of  the  ridiculous,  or 
rather  the  mark  of  a complete  misunderstanding  of  the  forms  of 
Greek  architecture. 

At  the  end  of  the  empire,  in  the  great  edifices  built  by  the  Ro- 
mans on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Adriatic  and  in  Asia,  the  archi- 
tects began  to  start  the  arch  directly  from  the  capitals  of  the  columns, 
without  the  intervention  of  an  entablature  in  any  form  (Fig.  27). 
But  this  innovation  was  due  entirely  to  the  Greeks,  who,  whenever 
they  could  do  so  without  disregarding  the  methods  of  construction 
employed  by  the  Western  Romans,  always  submitted  their  designs 
to  correct  and  rigid  reasoning. 

But  it  is  time  now  to  throw  a little  light  upon  a very  important 
question  in  the  history  of  the  art  of  architecture.  We  recognize  a 
Byzantine  art,  and  call  it  one  of  the  new  expressions  of  the  active 
spirit  of  the  Greeks  ; I have  ventured  to  state  that  Byzantine  art 
was  a Revival.  But  where  did  the  Greeks  obtain  the  elements  of 
this  Revival  ? By  what  means  was  the  Greek  art  of  the  time  of 


214 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE.  ' 


Pericles  so  transformed  P If,  under  the  empire,  the  Greeks  were 
constrained,  not  only  in  their  own  territory  but  in  Italy,  to  adopt  the 
pompous  taste  of  the  Romans,  how  did  it  happen  that,  after  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  Eastern  Empire,  they  found  themselves  in  condi- 
tion to  apply  at  once  new  forms  to  the  Roman  structure  without  any 
apparent  process  of  induction  and  experiment  ? To  resolve  this 
question  is  to  find  the  key  of  eastern  as  well  as  western  mediaeval 
art.  Let  us  investigate  the  matter. 


Fig.  27. 


There  is  room  to  believe  that,  in  their  earlier  days,  the  Greeks 
borrowed  the  elements  of  their  art  from  Asia  and  Egypt  ; but,  in 
the  time  of  their  greatest  splendor,  that  is  to  say  from  the  destruc- 
tion of  Athens  by  the  Persians  to  the  end  of  the  Peloponnesian  war, 


ax 


THE  BASILICA  OF  FANO. 


CONSTRUCTION  OF 


ROOF. 


\ 


4 


ROMANESQUE  TYPES  IN  THE  EAST. 


215 


they  carefully  avoided  taking  any  ideas  from  the  Asiatics,  with  whom 
they  were  waging  continual  war.  During  this  short  hut  brilliant 
epoch,  the  arts  of  Greece  were  radiant,  and  their  influence  extended 
to  the  Bosphorus,  and  probably  to  a part  of  the  coast  of  Syria,  where, 
however,  long  before  this  glorious  epoch  of  Greece,  there  had  existed 
a powerful  civilization,  possessing  arts  which  had  all  the  energy  of  na- 
tional youth.  Phoenicia  and  Judea  built,  traded,  and  colonized  long 
before  the  historic  times  of  the  Hellenic  peninsula.  After  having 
stifled  the  last  remnants  of  Greek  independence,  the  Romans  extend- 
ed their  empire  over  Syria  and  Persia  ; then  the  Greeks,  their  habit- 
ual warfare  with  the  Orientals  of  Asia  having  ceased,  became,  by 
commerce,  the  natural  medium  between  the  Levant  and  the  West  ; 
they  performed  the  same  part  which,  at  a later  day,  the  Venetians 
played  between  Asia  and  Western  Europe.  They  found,  in  Syria,  on 
the  coasts  of  ancient  Phoenicia  and  in  Judea,  arts  to  the  development 
of  which  they  had  unconsciously  contributed,  but  which  preserved 
the  traces  of  primitive  grandeur  to  a much  greater  extent  than  their 
own  ; they  also  found  there  one  of  the  sources  from  which  the  Ro- 
mans, in  the  time  of  the  Republic,  had  obtained  the  elements  of 
their  Etruscan  art.  This  requires  an  explanation. 

When  Rome  began  to  be  of  consequence  in  Italy,  the  people  of 
Etruria  already  possessed  a well -developed  art  ; they  understood  the 
vault, — not  the  vault  of  concrete  formed  over  a wooden  model  and 
hardened,  but  the  arch  made  of  hewn  stones  fitted  together  in  vous- 
soirs  ; they  constructed  with  enormous  blocks  laid  together  without 
wedges  or  mortar  ; this  construction,  the  issue  of  powerful  tradi- 
tions, they  decorated  with  flat  pilasters,  disks,  and  mouldings,  which 
were  neither  Egyptian  nor  Assyrian  in  character.  Recent  discov- 
eries * have  brought  to  light  the  remains  of  certain  buildings  in 
Judea,  which,  while  they  have  necessarily  close  affinities  with  Phoe- 
nician arts,  have  also  many  remarkable  points  of  resemblance  to 
those  of  Etruria;  in  both  we  find  the  same  construction,  the  same 
principle  in  the  mouldings,  the  same  kind  of  decoration,  and,  more 
important  than  all,  vaults  made  of  enormous  blocks  of  fitted  stones. 

M.  de  Saulcy,  to  whom  archaeologists  are  indebted  for  these  im- 
portant, though  disputed,  discoveries,  has  been  good  enough  to  lend 

* The  monuments,  to  which  we  are  about  to  draw  the  attention  of  our  readers,  and  which 
M.  de  Saulcy  has  brought  together  and  described,  were,  it  is  true,  not  discovered  by  him,  as 
they  have  been  long  known.  But  to  him  is  due  the  honor  of  having  discovered  their  probable 
date. 


21 G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


me  the  collection  of  photographs  and  notes  which  he  made  in  Pales- 
tine. If  the  archaeological  value  of  these  documents  may  be  con- 
tested, the  exactness  of  the  photography  cannot  be  questioned  ; and 
for  the  architect  who  is  familiar  with  the  operations  of  the  quarry 
and  the  stone-yard,  and  who  knows  how  stones  are  fitted  and  laid, 
photography  has  all  the  importance  of  actual  fact.  This  testimony 
discloses  to  us  the  remains  of  what  seems  to  be  the  platform  ( stylo- 
bate),  composed  of  colossal  stones,  on  which  was  built  the  temple  of 
Solomon  at  Jerusalem  ; and  on  one  of  the  perpendicular  sides  of  this 
platform  appears  the  springing  of  an  arch  which  formed  the  ancient 
bridge  of  communication  between  the  temple  and  the  palace.  (See 


Fig.  28. 


Pig.  28.)  This  bridge  was  the  one  destroyed  by  the  Jews  when 
Pompey  was  besieging  the  temple  of  Jerusalem,  54  years  b.  c.*  At 

* “And  without  further  delay  [the  party  of  Aristohulus]  occupied  the  temple,  destroyed  the 
bridge  which  connected  it  with  the  city,  and  put  themselves  in  position  to  defend  it.  The  rest 
received  Pompey,  and  placed  in  his  power  the  city  and  the  royal  palace,  ” [with  which  this  bridge 
established  a communication].  — Flay.  Joseph.,  History  of  the  Jews,  Book  XIV.  Ch.  VIII. 


ANCIENT  MASONRY  AT  JERUSALEM. 


217 


B may  be  seen,  as  M.  cle  Saulcy  admits,  the  restorations  of  the  time 
of  Herod,  while  at  C is  the  wall  built  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Without 
pretending  to  join  in  the  discussions  which  have  been  raised  regard- 
ing the  age  of  these  constructions,  I shall  confine  myself  to  stating 
what  any  one  can  verify.  In  the  first  place,  the  enormous  blocks 
which  compose  this  platform  are  taken  from  the  limestone  formation 
of  the  country,  which  is  very  hard  and  durable  ; it  must  be  admitted 
that  between  the  moment  of  laying  these  blocks  and  the  present 
century  a very  considerable  lapse  of  time  must  have  intervened,  as 
we  observe  that,  although  under  a mild  climate,  these  adamantine 
limestone  blocks  have  been  to  a certain  extent  decomposed,  or,  rather, 
have  lost  their  delicate  laminæ,  as  indicated  in  Fig.  28.  Again,  the 
wall-masonry,  B,  is  evidently  Roman,  and  is  built  of  the  same  stone 
as  the  arch-masonry,  and  the  difference  between  the  condition  of  the 
two  constructions  indicates  plainly  a difference  of  several  centuries  in 
their  age.  Then,  in  fine,  these  stones  are  not  cut  in  the  manner 
of  the  empire;  their  faces  are  coarsely  hewn,  and  a deep  chiselling 
may  still  be  seen  around  their  joints  and  beds  (see  Fig.  29),  like 
those  which  exist  in  some  rare  remains  of  Phoenician  masonry. 
Thesê  joints  and  beds  are  admirably  dressed,  perfectly  true,  and 
laid  without  mortar.  “Titus,”  said  Flavius  Josephus  (Book  VI.  ChA 
XLIL),  “ having  entered  [into  the  city  of  Jerusalem  after  the  siege], 
admired  the  fortifications  among  other  things,  and  could  not  restrain 
his  astonishment  at  beholding  the  strength  and  beauty  of  those 
towers,  which  the  tyrants  had  been  so  imprudent  as  to  abandon. 
After  having  attentively  considered  their  height  and  thickness,  the 
extraordinary  size  of  the  stones,  and  with  how  much  art  they  had 
been  joined  together,  he  cried,  ‘ God  has  indeed  fought  on  our 
side!’” 

If  this  arch  and  the  walls  which  serve  as  its  abutments  do  not  date 
back  to  the  primitive  construction  begun  by  Solomon,  and  continued 
for  several  centuries  after  him,  it  must  be  admitted  that  they  are 
a part  of  the  restoration  or  reconstruction  undertaken  by  Herod 
under  Augustus.  What  date,  in  this  case,  can  be  assigned  to  the 
later  Roman  constructions  at  B (Fig.  28)  ? They  must  have  been 
executed  by  some  one;  but  there  is  no  evidence  that,  between  the 
reign  of  Herod  and  the  siege  by  Titus,  the  temple  was  either  rebuilt 
or  restored  from  its  foundations,  nor  after  the  time  of  Titus  does 
anything  seem  to  have  been  done  to  it.  We  cannot,  indeed,  furnish 


218 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


any  certain  proof  that  these  stones  were  laid  by  Solomon  ; but  it  can 
hardly  be  doubted  that  they  are  anterior  to  the  Roman  domination, 
and  this  is  what  I would  be  contented  to  establish.  I am  well  aware 
that  in  Syria,  at  Balbec,  for  example,  there  are  many  ruins  of  con- 
structions built  with  gigantic  blocks,  which  have  been  attributed  to 
the  Romans,  and  that,  since  the  Romans  employed  this  extraordi- 
nary structure  elsewhere,  it  has  been  concluded  that  they  must  have 
been  the  authors  of  the  masonry  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem.  This 
argument  rests  upon  an  incomplete  foundation.  The  basement  ( stylo - 
bate)  of  the  temple  of  Balbec  belonged  to  an  edifice  anterior  to  the 
temple  built  by  Hadrian.  The  primitive  constructions  are  not  dis- 
posed towards  the  points  of  the  compass,  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
Roman  temple  which  surmounts  them  ; and  in  the  crypts  one  can 
plainly  see  where  the  Roman  construction  joins  the  primitive  base- 
ment, which,  like  that  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem,  is  built  of  enor- 
mous blocks.  These  primitive  crypts,  or  cellars,  are  vaulted,  and 
the  Roman  vaults  are  built  upon  them.  It  seems  not  unreasonable, 
therefore,  to  attribute  such  masonry  as  that  in  the  arch  of  the  bridge 
of  Solomon  to  the  Phoenician  epoch. 

But  it  may  be  objected  that  to  base  an  entire  system  or  theory 
upon  a fragment  of  such  slight,  importance  — upon  two  or  three 
courses  of  stone,  in  fact  — is  at  least  hazardous.  It  may  be  so;  but 
this  fragment  is  not  the  only  one  ; almost  the  whole  base  of  the  plat- 
form and  a part  of  the  enclosing  walls  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem 
still  exist,  and  at  some  points  these  remains  are  still  of  great  height. 
Pig.  29  represents  the  southern  face  of  this  enormous  basement,  near 
its  southeast  angle.  Is  it  possible  that  we  behold  in  this  a construc- 
tion of  the  epoch  of  Herod  the  Great,  — of  that  king  so  devoted  to 
the  empire,  so  closely  connected  with  the  Romans  in  all  his  inter- 
ests ; who  built  the  city  of  Cesarea,  consecrated  to  Augustus  ; who 
devoted  his  treasures  to  the  construction  of  the  city  of  Nicopolis, 
built  by  that  Emperor;  who,  in  fine,  had  himself  visited  Rome,  and 
kept  ambassadors  there?  Do  we  not,  on  the  other  hand,  behold 
in  this  basement  traces  of  an  art  primitive  in  every  respect  ? Does 
not  the  wall,  laid  in  retreating  courses  ( battering ),  according  to  the 
method  pursued  by  all  primitive  nations,  indicate  a very  remote  an- 
tiquity, and  is  not  this  enormous  masonry,  with  its  joints  accentuated 
by  deep  chisel-draughts,  are  not  these  venerable  stones,  flaked  off  in 
their  grain  by  the  action  of  centuries,  proofs  of  an  age  long  anterior 


BASEMENT  OF  SOLOMON'S  TEMPLE. 


219 


Fig.  29. 


to  the  Herodian  epoch  ? If  this  angle  is  admitted  to  he  of  the  age 
of  Solomon  or  his  immediate  successors,  the  fragmentary  arch  in  Fig. 
28  must  be  of  the  same  epoch  ; for  the  stones,  and  the  manner  in 


2.20 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


which  they  are  cut  and  laid,  are  the  same  in  this  arch  as  in  the 
other  most  ancient  portions  of  the  platform  of  the  temple. 

Now  it  can  scarcely  be  disputed  that  the  Etruscans,  as  well  as  the 
Carthaginians,  with  whom  they  had  evident  relations,  are  the  remains 
of  a Phoenician  colony,  from  which  the  Romans  of  the  republic  ob- 
tained their  first  ideas  in  the  art  of  building. 

But  the  facings  of  the  platform  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem  are 
mere  walls,  without  any  appearance  of  sculpture  ; and  if  they  do  be- 
long to  a very  remote  epoch,  as  is  proved  by  the  dimensions  of  the 
blocks,  the  manner  in  which  they  are  cut,  and  by  the  fact  that  their 
masonry  has  numerous  décrochements ,*  there  is  nothing  here  to  indi- 
cate a contemporary  art.  There  are,  however,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Jerusalem,  quite  a number  of  tombs  cut  out  of  the  natural  lime- 


Fig.  so. 


stone  formations  which  cover  a great  part  of  Palestine.  M.  de 
Saulcy  maintains  that  these  tombs  date  from  the  epoch  of  the 

* It  is  worthy  of  note  that  all  primitive  masonry  is  either  cyclopean,  that  is  to  say,  com- 
posed of  irregular  blocks  as  they  came  from  the  quarry,  but  reduced  to  a common  level  on  their 
exposed  faces,  or  décrochés.  A wall  is  cyclopean,  when  the  stone  of  which  it  is  composed  is 
quarried  with  faces  not  parallel  ; but  in  countries,  like  Judæa,  whose  calcareous  rocks  naturally 
occur  in  parallel  strata,  it  is  clear  that  the  builder  must  lay  his  blocks  in  horizontal  courses. 
But  as  the  natural  strata  are  of  unequal  height,  the  thinner  stones,  in  workmanlike  walls,  must 
be  wedged  up  to  a common  horizontal  level  with  the  thicker  ones  in  the  same  course,  — an  op- 
eration (décrochement)  requiring  more  experience  than  very  primitive  builders  possessed.  By 
these  indications,  therefore,  we  can  always  discover  whether  a wall  belongs  to  a primitive  civili- 
zation or  to  a civilization  advanced  in  the  practice  of  the  arts. 


ANCIENT  SCULPTURE  NEAR  JERUSALEM. 


221 


kings  ; his  opponents  attribute  to  them  a much  more  recent  date. 
But,  first,  it  was  not  the  custom  of  the  Romans,  under  the  empire, 
to  cut  their  tombs  in  the  living  rock  ; second,  even  in  the  time  of 
Constantine,  tradition,  which  should  always  be  consulted,  referred 
thefn  to  the  Judaic  epoch  ; third,  the  architectural  style  of  these  caves 
(Jtypogœa)  is  foreign  to  Roman  art.  Let  us  take,  for  example,  one 
of  the  most  important  of  the  tombs,  that  of  the  kings  (Fig.  30), 
which,  in  certain  forms  of  its  architecture,  and  even  in  certain  de- 
tails of  its  mouldings,  bears  the  closest  resemblance  of  any  to  the 
Roman  art  of  the  empire.  The  two  supporting  piers,  indicated  at 
A,  are  destroyed.  We  behold  here,  it  is  true,  the  triglyphs  of  the 
Greek  Doric  order  ; but  why  may  not  the  Greeks,  primitively,  have 
borrowed  this  detail  from  the  Phoenicians  or  Jews  ? The  sculptured 
palms,  garlands,  disks,  grapes,  and  especially  that  great  carved  square 
frame,  to  which  the  entablature  serves  as  a crowning  member,  are 
ornaments  which  are  neither  Greek,  Assyrian,  nor  Roman.  A de- 
tailed examination  of  this  sculpture  reveals  to  us,  even  in  a more 
emphatic  manner  than  the  general  design,  the  idea  of  an  original 


Pig.  31. 


art.  Observe  (Fig.  31)  this  fragment  of  frieze,  with  its  triple  palms, 
the  angular 'way  in  which  they  are  cut,  its  bunches  of  grapes,  and 
its  crowns,  suspended  by  knotted  cord.  See  again  (Fig.  32)  these 
fragments  of  the  frame,  composed  of  olive  and  vine  leaves.  Neither 
Greeks  nor  Romans,  especially  the  later  Romans,  ever  executed 


222 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


sculpture  in  this  style.  Fig.  33,  a fragment  of  a pediment  sur- 
mounting the  opening  of  the  tomb  of  the  Judges,  also  cut  in  the 
rock,  is  an  example  imprinted  with  a character  even  more  original. 


Fig.  32. 


If  there  is  anywhere  in  the  world  a style  of  sculpture  which  has 
any  relations  with  this,  it  is  evidently  the  Byzantine  sculpture  of  the 
fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  centuries.  Can  it  be  pretended  that  these 


rock-cut  tombs  date  from  so  late  an  epoch  as  this  ; and,  if  so,  for 
whom  and  by  whom  could  they  have  been  made  ? But  if  it  is  ad- 
mitted that  they  are  anterior  to  the  fourth  century,  and  they  are 


Fig.  33. 


RELATIONS  OP  BYZANTINE  TO  PHOENICIAN  ART.  223 


attributed  to  an  epoch  no  earlier  even  than  that  of  Herod,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  Byzantine  Greeks  borrowed  a great  deal  from  them. 
The  total  absence  of  all  representations  of  men  or  animals  in  these 
sculptures  is  worthy  to  be  noted  ; and  all  the  tombs  exhibit  the  same 
character  of  workmanship,  — a dry,  precise,  flat  but  sharply  cut 
method  of  execution,  full  of  character,  and  at  the  same  time  pre- 
senting a carefully  studied  design,  and  what  may  be  called  a primi- 
tive touch  of  the  chisel  ; all  these  are  qualities  entirely  distinct  from 
those  of  the  sculpture  of  the  Lower  Empire,  which  is  soft,  clumsy,  of 
high  projection,  and  great  monotony  in  treatment  ; in  a word,  quite 
destitute  of  style,  and  indicating  an  effete  art  degraded  in  design 
and  debased  in  workmanship.  Artists,  to  whom  I would  especially 
appeal  in  this  matter,  can  have  no  doubt  regarding  the  primitive 
character  of  the  sculpture  of  the  rock-cut  tombs  of  Palestine. 

But  it  can  be  said,  with  some  show  of  reason,  that  these  tombs 
may  date  no  further  back  than  the  era  of  Herod  the  Great,  since  Fla- 
vius Josephus,  in  his  “ History  of  the  Jews  ” (Book  XI.  Chap.  XIV.), 
referring  to  the  reconstruction  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem  by  that 
prince,  says  : “ The  architecture  of  the  porticos  is  very  similar  to 
that  of  the  rest  of  the  temple  ; between  its  columns  is  hung  tapestry 
of  various  colors  embellished  with  purple  flowers,  and  in  the  cornice 
hang  branches  of  golden-vine  with  clusters  of  g rapes  so  exquisitely 
worked  that,  in  them,  art  seems  to  vie  with  nature.”  Now  Herod, 
in  the  rebuilding  of  his  temple,  employed  Asiatic  artists,  who  pos- 
sessed their  own  art  traditions,  with  nothing  Roman  in  them.  When 
we  remember  with  what  care  Flavius  Josephus  endeavors  to  impress 
upon  us  how  extremely  jealous  the  Jews  were  of  their  nationality,  and 
how  promptly  they  rebelled  against  every  foreign  influence,  we  can 
readily  understand  that  Herod,  desirous  of  preserving  that  popularity 
which  had  been  so  weakened  by  his  unfortunate  effort  to  introduce 
Roman  feasts  and  usages  into  Judea,  would  cautiously  avoid  impos- 
ing a foreign  art  on  the  construction  of  the  temple.  Even,  therefore, 
if  the  tombs  of  Jerusalem  could  be  referred  back  to  no  earlier  date 
than  the  time  of  Herod,  they  still,  for  these  reasons,  would  have  had 
the  evident  mark  of  a local  art  ; and  this  is  sufficient  for  our  pur- 
poses. 

It  is  important  for  us  to  follow  still  further  the  chronological  classi- 
fication of  tradition,  and  to  consider  more  particularly  the  construc- 
tions of  the  time  of  Herod  the  Great.  We  know  that  he  restored 


224 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


or,  in  great  part,  reconstructed  the  temples.  After  him  there  is  no 
evidence  that  the  temple  was  touched  till  the  time  of  its  destruction 
by  the  army  of  Titus.  This  conqueror  razed  the  city,  and  is  said  to 
have  left  but  two  towers  standing  ; he  made  a solitude  there,  and  it 
was  not  till  the  time  of  Hadrian  that  the  Jewish  city  was  repeopled  ; 
but  it  never  again  arose  entire  from  its  ruins.  It  is  easy  to  compre- 
hend that,  however  ardent  these  destroyers  of  cities  may  have  been, 
they  had  every  reason  to  be  discouraged  in  the  presence  of  those 
monstrous  walls  whose  fragments  have  been  given  in  Tigs.  28  and 
29.  The  prophecy,  “ There  shall  not  remain  one  stone  upon  an- 
other,” was  difficult  to  be  accomplished  by  the  hand  of  man.  Thus, 
there  remain  not  only  considerable  portions  of  the  platform  and 
primitive  enclosures  of  the  temple,  but  some  fragments  of  sculpture  ; 
and,  at  many  points  of  the  enclosure,  we  can  recognize  perfectly  the 
remains  of  constructions  subsequent  to  the  gigantic  masonry  of  which 
we  have  presented  drawings,  and  these  remains  are  evidently  Roman 
in  structure  and  can  only  belong  to  the  reign  of  Herod.  It  is  fortu- 
nate for  the  history  of  art  that,  of  this  enclosure,  there  remains  a gate 
decorated  with  sculpture,  and,  although  this  sculpture  and  the  archi- 
tectural forms  belong  to  an  art  much  more  advanced  than  that  of  the 
tombs  in  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  yet  they  bear  the  imprint  of  that 
original  art  whose  existence  it  is  so  important  for  us  to  establish. 
In  Tig.  34,  which,  like  the  preceding  figures,  is  after  a photograph, 
I present  a view  of  what  remains  of  this  gate,  a fragment  which  can 
only  be  attributed  to  the  Herodiau  epoch.  The  gate  was  probably 
closed  up  with  mediaeval  masonry.  It  is  in  every  respect  foreign  to 
any  Roman  art.  It  is  composed  of  a delicate  arch,  decorated  with 
very  fine  sculpture,  placed  under  a lintel  which  is  relieved  by  a dis- 
charging arch  above.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  this  lintel  still 
presents,  like  the  blocks  of  the  platform  of  the  temple,  a very  large 
chisel-draught  around  its  edges,  and  in  the  middle  a projecting 
face.  The  masonry  is  well  dressed  and  laid  in  close  joints  without 
mortar.  If  these  sculptures  are  of  the  time  of  Herod  (a  fact  not 
easily  disputed  on  account  of  their  position),  the  celebrated  gate,  called 
the  Golden  Gate,  is  evidently  of  the  same  time,  for  its  sculpture  has  the 
same  character.  M.  de  Saulcy  does  not  hesitate  to  consider  this  gate 
one  of  the  works  of  Herod.  The  construction  of  the  imposts  is  very 
Roman  in  character  ; the  two  enclosing  arches  are  of  slight  projection, 
and  the  sculpture  is  admirably  treated,  preserving  always,  however,  a 


Pig.  34. 


INFLUENCE  OF  SYRIA  ON  BYZANTINE  ART. 


o 9 r 


Z 0 


distinct  Judaic  character.  Fig.  35  presents  a detail  of  this  sculpture. 
The  acanthus  leaves  of  the  capital,  with  the  sudden  bending  over  of 
their  tops,  have  a firmness  and  vigor  of  execution  such  as  was  never 
exhibited  in  any  sculpture  of  the  Lower  Empire.  These  capitals  are 
not  surmounted  by  an  entablature,  but  the  archivolts  start  directly 
from  them,  as  in  the  gate  of  the  enclosure  of  the  temple.  The  orna- 
mentation is  well  undercut,  precise,  and  delicate,  and,  though  pos- 
sessing more  energy,  singularly  recalls  that  Byzantine  ornamentation, 
which  may  be  seen  in  the  capitals  of  St.  Sophia,  and  which  appears 
in  so  many  articles  manufactured  at  Constantinople,  from  the  sixth 
to  the  twelfth  century,  such  as  diptychs,  covers  of  manuscripts,  ivory 
caskets,  etc. 

In  fact  it  is  not  rash  to  assert  that  the  Greeks,  disgusted  at  the 
degradation  of  art  at  the  close  of  the  Roman  Empire,  finding  them- 
selves in  constant  communication  with  the  people  of  Syria,  and  in- 
spired by  the  true  Greek  spirit,  which  forbade  them  from  retrograd- 
ing to  their  own  antique  art,  seized  upon  these  new  elements,  and 
turning  their  backs  upon  the  West,  which  did  not  comprehend  them, 
set  themselves  to  fashion,  from  these  Asiatic  precedents  or  sugges- 
tions, a new  art,  — a Byzantine  art.  The  appearance  of  the  sculp- 
ture and  its  treatment  make  this  fact  very  evident  to  my  eyes  ; yet 
I desire  that  it  should  be  equally  so  in  the  eyes  of  my  readers. 

The  fragments  to  which  I have  just  referred  belong  either  to  the 
time  of  Herod  the  Great,  to  that  of  Hadrian,  or  to  that  of  Constan- 
tine. Although  the  Roman  art  of  the  epoch  of  Hadrian  had  a ten- 
dency to  approach  the  ancient  Greek  types,  this  tendency  Avas  limited 
to  a more  careful  execution,  without  sensibly  modifying  the  general 
character  of  the  architecture.  Examples  of  this  occur  even  at  Jeru- 
salem, not  only  in  the  fountain  called  of  St.  Philip,  but  in  various 
other  remains  Avhich  are  as  Roman  in  their  details  and-  general  effect 
as  are  the  structures  of  Rome  itself.  It  certainly  cannot  be  main- 
tained that  these  gates  and  rock-cut  tombs  (Avhich  are  plainly  ex- 
pressions of  the  same  art)  are  of  the  time  of  St.  Helen.  Y\  ith 
Roman  art  under  Constantine  Ave  are  very  familiar;  in  regard  to 
execution  it  had  reached  the  lowest  depth  of  degradation  ; and  if  the 
architecture  of  Constantine  in  Syria  is  distinguished  from  that  of 
Constantine  in  the  West,  it  is  because  in  the  former  country  there 
existed  a brilliant  school,  and  our  argument  in  favor  of  the  influence 
of  the  S yrian  arts  upon  the  Avorks  of  the  Greeks  remains  intact. 


226 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


The  Greeks  adopted  Christianity  with  ardor  ; this  was  natural,  as 
Christianity  had  been  presented  to  them  by  their  own  philosophers. 
They  were  therefore  the  first  to  repair  to  the  holy  places  where  the 
new  religion  was  born  ; this,  for  them,  was  no  tedious  pilgrimage. 
But  when  Christianity  was  developed  in  the  territory  of  ancient 
Greece,  their  communications  with  Palestine  became  frequent  and 
necessary  ; and,  when  we  consider  their  quick  and  sensitive  natures, 
we  are  not  surprised  to  find  them  drawing  the  elements  of  the  new 
Christian  art  from  the  fountain-head  of  the  religion  itself.  Both  the 
archaeological  and  moral  aspects  of  the  case,  therefore,  admit  the  hy- 
pothesis that  Byzantine  art  obtained  some  of  its  decorative  elements 
from  Palestine.  I am  aware  of  the  prejudices  against  this  ; none 
of  us  can  forget  the  opinions  of  Voltaire  concerning  the  Jewish  peo- 
ple; but  this  philosopher  had  not  the  most  remote  idea  of  the  nature 
and  value  of  the  primitive  arts  of  Syria,  and  the  very  energy  he  em- 
ployed to  lessen  the  importance  of  the  Jews,  and  to  render  them 
ridiculous,  should  put  us  on  our  guard  against  his  ideas  on  the  sub- 
ject ; we  are  not  apt  to  take  such  great  pains  to  destroy  that  which 
really  has  no  foundation,  and  the  very  bitterness  of  Voltaire  against 
the  Jews  is  a negative  proof  of  their  actual  importance  in  history. 

The  Greeks  were  always  distinguished  for  their  aptitude  to  appro- 
priate to  their  own  uses  the  elements  which  they  obtained  from 
others.  They  were  the  most  sublime  of  pirates,  throwing  into  their 
crucibles  everything  which  they  could  lay  their  hands  on,  things 
and  ideas,  to  develop  thence  a Greek  result  and  show  to  the  aston- 
ished world  a production  not  to  be  questioned,  but  to  be  received. 
In  the  presence  of  the  innumerable  hypotheses,  more  or  less  ingeni- 
ous, which  have  been  uttered  regarding  the  origins  of  the  Grecian 
arts  of  antiquity  and  of  those  of  Byzantium,  which  are  so  much  nearer 
to  us,  and  so  much  easier  to  analyze,  in  the  presence  of  all  the 
suppositions  which  have  been  raised  since  archaeology  has  become 
a science,  I do  not  pretend  to  have  indicated,  in  these  few  lines,  the 
only  trace  of  the  origins  of  Byzantine  art  ; I have  limited  myself 
to  noting  the  facts.  When  the  Romans  stifled  Greece  under  their 
powerful  hand,  Greek  art  became  a trade,  and  Roman  art  planted 
itself  everywhere  on  that  classic  soil  ; and  although  the  monuments 
built  there  from  that  time  were  undoubtedly  more  perfect  in  exe- 
cution than  those  of  Italy,  Gaul,  Spain,  or  Germany,  they  were 
nevertheless  Roman  monuments  ; and  this  is  so  evident,  that,  in 


Fig.  35. 


INFLUENCE  OF  SYRIA  ON  BYZANTINE  ART. 


227 


Attica,  for  example,  the  most  casual  observer,  lie  who  is  least  familiar 
with  architecture,  turns  involuntarily  from  them,  notwithstanding 
the  seductive  purity  of  their  execution,  to  contemplate  those  indige- 
nous fragments  of  Greek  art  which  will  never  cease  to  delight  and 
instruct  the  world.  From  that  day,  then,  to  the  establishment  of  the 
empire  at  Constantinople  there  is  no  trace  of  a Greek  art  ; if  it 
accomplished  anything,  it  was  done  in  obscurity  ; then  suddenly  we 
behold  at  Constantinople  the  arts  of  architecture,  sculpture,  and 
painting  take  a new  flight,  assume  new  forms,  develop  new  prin- 
ciples, and  affect  a distinct  character.  The  Greeks  must  have  found 
these  new  elements  somewhere  ; and  we  have  seen  that  the  only 
monuments  presenting  — at  least  in  their  decorative  principles  — 
striking  analogies  to  Byzantine  art  are  in  Palestine,  on  Jewish  soil. 
We  have  also  seen  that,  notwithstanding  all  opinions  to  the  contrary, 
these  monuments  are  anterior  to  Byzantine  art,  properly  so  called, 
and  that,  during  the  last  three  centuries  of  the  empire,  the  Greeks, 
formerly  waging  continual  war  with  the  Asiatics,  were  as  constant 
in  their  friendly  relations  with  them.  The  inference  from  all  this 
is  obvious.  Even  if  we  attribute  these  Judaic  monuments  to  so  late 
an  era  as  the  last  Roman  epoch,  to  a time  subsequent  even  to  the 
age  of  Augustus  and  Herod  the  Great,  yet,  as  they  bear  no  resem- 
blance to  the  real  Roman  architecture  of  that  period,  either  in  gen- 
eral effect  or  in  details,  they  imply  the  influence  of  a local  art,  and 
consequently  of  an  anterior  traditionary  art. 

Thus  wTe  turn  in  the  same  circle,  and  are  compelled  to  recognize 
that  in  Syria  there  was,  at  the  Phoenician  Judaic  epoch,  au  indige- 
nous art,  which  was  not  the  art  of  the  Assyrians,  nor  of  the  Persians, 
nor  yet  the  primitive  art  of  the  Greeks.  It  is  true  that  we  find  some 
traces  of  this  art  in  Roman  monuments  at,  Balbec,  Palmyra,  and 
throughout  Syria,  but  the  construction  and  decoration  of  these  monu- 
ments are  Roman  in  execution;  their  mouldings  are  covered  with 
ornaments,  and  these  ornaments  are  always  Roman.  Byzantine  art, 
properly  so  called,  could  not  have  been  developed  from  an  art  rapidly 
tailing  to  decay,  for  never  was  a Revival  erected  from  corrupted 
types  ; only  primitive  sources  can  furnish  the  energy  for  a long 
career.  I will  not  undertake  to  say  that  the  Greeks  obtained  from 
Judea  alone  the  new  elements  of  Byzantine  art.  Perhaps  every 
known  part  of  Asia  contributed  its  share  to  the  result.  But  I con- 
tent myself  with  the  statement  of  this  fact,  that  Byzantine  art  had  no 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


228 


essential  resemblance  to  the  Greek  antique,  and  that  it  mingled  with 
the  Roman  architecture  of  the  West  certain  new  principles,  some 
of  which  we  find  distinctly  written  upon  the  ancient  soil  of  Judea. 

But  what  were  these  new  principles  ? The  Greeks,  who,  in  an- 
tiquity, had  invented  the  orders,  or,  at  least,  had  given  to  them  their 
appropriate  proportions,  seeing  how  they  had  been  misused  by  the 
Romans,  rejected  them.  They  had  recourse  to  other  principles  ; the 
orders,  which  could  only  exist  with  the  lintel  or  horizontal  entabla- 
ture, were  regarded  by  the  Greeks  as  inconsistent  with  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  arch  into  architecture;  or  if  they  used  the  lintel  at  all,  it 
was  only  admitted  under  the  arch.  The  columns  lost  their  character 
as  an  order  imposing  characteristic  form  on  a monument,  to  assume 
the  secondary  position  of  the  vertical  supports  of  wall  apertures,  rigid 
monoliths  bearing  open  arches  in  thin  walls.  They  often  adopted 
the  square  pier  or  isolated  pilaster  instead  of  the  column,  as  may  be 
seen  in  the  great  lateral  bays  of  St.  Sophia,  at  Constantinople.* 

The  cornices  of  great  projection  belonging  to  the  Greek  and  Latin 
orders  were  abandoned,  to  be  replaced  by  bands  {string  courses ) of 
flat  profiles,  the  bold  horizontal  projections,  from  this  time  forward, 
being  confined  to  the  crowning  member  of  the  edifice.  The  orders 
laid  aside,  the  proportions  of  the  columns,  as  well  as  their  capi- 
tals, became  arbitrary.  Carrying  Roman  construction  to  its  utmost 
limits,  the  Greeks  finally  arrived  at  the  point  of  considering  Avails 
simply  as  open  or  close  screens  or  partitions.  Structure  resided  only 
in  the  reciprocal  abutment  of  vaults,  resolving  themselves  into  thrusts 
and  bearings  upon  certain  isolated  points  or  piers  sustaining  the 
vaults.  This  kind  of  construction  Avas  very  frankly  developed  in  the 
great  church  of  St.  Sophia.  Byzantine  art  was  not,  therefore,  as  has 
been  pretended,  a sequel  of  the  decay  of  Roman  arts.  It  a vas  an  art 
which  pushed  to  their  utmost  development  the  principles  of  Roman 
construction,  and,  abandoning  Roman  decoration,  brought  together 
and,  with  Greek  intelligence,  applied  neAv  decorative  systems,  true 
in  character  and  more  consistent  with  these  principles.  It  Avas  an 
art,  not  in  decline,  but  rejuvenated  and  invigorated  for  a long  career 
of  progress,  in  the  course  of  Avhich  it  Avas  to  become  the  parent  of 
principles  hitherto  unknown. 


* See  also  the  two  pilasters,  placed  outside  the  church  of  St.  Mark,  at  A^enice,  on  the  side  of 
the  Piazzetta,  and  which,  according  to  tradition,  came  from  St.  Jean  d’Acre.  They  appear  to  be- 
long to  the  first  Byzantine  period,  and  their  faces  are  covered  with  foliage. 


ROMANESQUE  DEVELOPMENTS  IN  THE  WEST. 


229 


I have  said  that  the  Nestorians,  after  the  condemnation  of  their 
chief,  took  refuge  in  Syria,  in  Persia,  and  Egypt  ; their  sect  at 
length  spread  into  Asia.  They  carried  with  them  the  principles 
of  the  Byzantine  Revival.  Lor  them,  the  Virgin  was  the  mother  of 
Christ,  but  not  the  mother  of  God.  They  saw  in  Jesus  Christ  two 
natures,  one  divine,  another  human.  This  heresy  tended  to  do  honor 
to  Divinity,  not  by  the  representation  of  His  incarnation,  but  of  TIis 
works.  The  Arabs,  who  availed  themselves  of  the  arts  imported 
among  them  by  the  Nestorians,  carried  this  doctrine  still  further,  and 
forbade  the  imitation  of  any  animated  beings  whatever,  either  in 
sculpture  or  painting.  Art,  thus  circumscribed,  relieved  itself  by  the 
use  of  flowers,  material  objects,  and  geometrical  combinations  in  its 
decoration.  The  study  of  geometry  became  then,  among  the  Arabs, 
the  principal  element,  not  only  of  the  architectural  structure,  but  of 
its  ornament.  In  this  manner,  Greek  art,  transported  by  the  Nesto- 
rians, was  removed  as  far  as  possible,  both  in  form  and  principles, 
from  its  ancient  types. 

The  West,  beginning  to  cultivate  the  arts  at  the  time  of  Charle- 
magne, thus  found  itself  in  the  presence  of  three  principles,  to  which 
it  could  refer  for  precedent  and  instruction.  It  possessed  on  its  own 
soil  the  remnants  of  Roman  art,  it  borrowed  all  that  it  could  from 
Byzantine  art,  and  yielded  to  the  influence  of  the  Arabic  modifica- 
tion of  Byzantine  art  which  came  to  them  through  intercourse  with 
Spain,  Syria,  and  the  African  coast. 

Latin  by  virtue  of  its  ancient  traditions,  Gaul,  as  I have  already 
said,  was  hardly  Latin  in  the  nature  of  its  genius.  It  was  seduced 
by  Byzantine  types,  and  was  attracted  by  the  Arabs  to  the  study 
of  the  mathematical  sciences.  As  early  as  the  tenth  century  its 
architecture  manifested  tendencies  far  in  advance  of  the  practical 
means  at  its  disposal.  Barbarism,  although  it  appeared  in  the  execu- 
tion, did  not  exist  in  the  conception.  In  the  works  of  that  period 
we  can  recognize  the  efforts  of  accomplished  artists,  but  seconded 
by  rude  and  unskilful  artisans.  The  principles  developed  even  at 
that  early  period  differed  entirely  from  those  of  the  Greek  architec- 
ture .of  antiquity  and  from  those  of  the  Roman  architecture  of  the 
empire.  Thus  the  Greeks  employed  the  orders  as  an  expression  of 
the  post  and  lintel  ; the  Romans  employed  the  vault  and  used  the 
orders  as  a feature  independent  of  the  structure.  The  Byzantines  ad- 
vanced a step  beyond  these  ; while  they  aimed  to  give  to  the  orders, 


230 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


or  rather  to  the  column,  a true  and  useful  function  in  their  vaulted 
edifices,  it  was  used  simply  as  an  accessory  member,  in  supporting 
the  arched  openings  of  a purely  Roman  wall.  But  the  western  archi- 
tects, when  their  Romanesque  architecture  was  developed,  intimately 
allied  the  column  to  the  structure  of  their  edifices  ; they  made  it  an 
indispensable  member,  but  in  doing  so  they  were  constrained  to 
disregard  the  proportions  of  the  antique  column.  They  considered 
it  only  as  a vertical  support,  to  which  they  gave  greater  or  less  height 
according  to  the  function  it  was  called  upon  to  perform,  without 
regard  to  those  fixed  relations  between  the  diameter  and  height  that 
were  established  by  the  ancient  orders.  This  was  indeed  a disobedi- 
ence of  the  ancient  laws  of  art  which  would  not  be  tolerated  in  the 
modern  academic  schools  ; but  are  there  no  other  laws  in  the  world, 
that  these  cannot  be  disregarded  without  falling  into  barbarism  ? 

We  have  seen  how  the  Romans  superimposed  engaged  columns  in 
buildings  composed  of  many  stories,  and  how,  when  their  columns 
performed  the  function  of  buttresses,  the  entablatures  associated  with 
them,  by  the  leverage  their  projections  exerted  on  the  mass  of  the 
wall,  had  a tendency  to  cancel  the  effect  of  the  columns  as  buttresses 
and  to  render  them  useless.  Now  in  the  West,  on  the  other  hand,  as 
early  as  the  tenth  century  and  perhaps  earlier,  the  architects  entirely 
suppressed  the  intermediate  entablature  of  these  superimposed  orders, 
and,  instead  of  two,  three,  or  four  columns  which  the  Romans  would 
have  placed  one  on  top  of  the  other,  they  used  a bundle  or  sheaf  of 
them  undivided  in  height,  or  a single  great  column,  or  a single  cylin- 
drical buttress,  possessing  but  one  capital  with  an  entablature  at  the 
summit  of  the  edifice.  If  there  were  several  stories,  these  were  indi- 
cated by  bands  or  string-courses  interrupting  the  columns,  which 
arose  from  the  base  either  indefinitely  elongated  or  in  retreat  at 
each  successive  story  (Rig.  36).*  Thus  from  correct  reasoning  resulted 
a new  principle.  We  have  already  seen  that,  among  the  ancient 
Greeks,  when  two  orders  were  superimposed,  the  upper  was  but  the 
prolongation  of  the  lower  columns  ; as,  for  example,  in  the  Temple  of 
Neptune  at  Pæstum,  that  of  Ceres  at  Eleusis,  etc.  (Fig.  37).  The 
Greeks  thus  felt  that  two  superimposed  orders  should  form  one  whole, 
should  have  a perfect  mutual  connection,  should  be  and  seem  to 
be  but  two  stories  of  the  same  structure,  and  not  two  structures 
placed  on  top  of  each  other.  The  Romanesque  architects  of  the  W est 


* Ancient  part  of  the  church  of  Saint-Remy  at  Rheims. 


ROMANESQUE  DEVELOPMENTS  IN  THE  WEST. 


231 


knew  nothing  about  ancient  Greek  architecture  ; they  knew  only  the 
arts  of  Rome  and  Byzantium  ; but,  reasoning  from  their  own  point 
of  view,  they  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion  as  the  classic  Greeks, 


Fig.  36. 


that  a building  in  several  stories  should  not  be  treated  like  several 
buildings  on  top  of  each  other.  Thus,  in  the  process  of  sound  reason- 


232 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


ing,  they  destroyed  the  Roman  orders.  The  whole  question,  there- 
fore, is  whether  the  consequences  resulting  from  sound  reasoning  are 
worth  the  loss  of  an  order  the  use  of  which  is  based  upon  false 
reasoning.  Availing  themselves  of  Roman  and  Byzantine  arts,  the 
western  builders  gave  birth  to  principles  of  their  own  ; and  if  they 
betrayed  irresolution  in  their  choice  of  forms  during  the  Romanesque 
period,  they  showed  no  indecision  in  the  application  of  principles 
which  were  the  issue  of  a judgment  becoming  sounder  and  sounder 
with  experience.  This  was  not  a bad  beginning  for  barbarians. 

The  western  architects  of  the  Romanesque  period  were  not  in  a 
position  to  use  large  stones  in  their  structures,  as  they  neither  had  the 
means  of  transporting  nor  of  raising  them  ; but  the  Romans  had  left 
upon  their  soil  vast  edifices  built  of  very  small  irregular  masonry, 

Fig.  37. 


rubble  or  brick  ; this  construction,  however,  was  always  regarded  by 
the  Romans  as  a naked  body  to  be  clothed  with  marble,  stucco,  or 
ashlar  facing,  decorated  with  monolithic  columns.  The  Romanesque 
architects,  on  the  other  hand,  while  they  availed  themselves  of  the 
ancient  examples  as  regarded  structure,  frankly  took  upon  themselves 
the  responsibility  of  ceasing  to  make  a distinction  between  the  body 
and  the  covering.  The  construction  itself  and  its  necessities  imposed 
the  form  and  was  the  architecture.  Tims,  when  the  Romanesque 
architect  proposed  to  build  a nave  with  two  aisles,  a basilican  nave, 
he  did  not  raise  monolithic  columns  to  carry  its  interior  walls,  nor  did 
he  concern  himself  to  give  to  the  columns  or  piers,  which  he  built 


ROMANESQUE  DEVELOPMENTS  IN  THE  WEST. 


of  low  courses  of  stone,  the  proportions  of  the  Roman  column.  He 
made  them  short,  and  square  or  cylindrical  (Fig.  38)  ; * or,  if  he 
would  avoid  the  heavy  aspect  of  these  supports,  be  fashioned  them 
like  a cluster  of  columns  (Fig.  39).  f But  lie  soon  vaulted  the  aisles, 
while  he  continued  to  use  timber  roofs  for  the  nave.  He  saw  that 
these  aisle  vaults  tended  to  thrust  the  pillars  inward,  and  therefore 
that  he  must  modify  the  pillars  to  enable  them  to  offer  the  proper 
resistance.  Thus  he  was  led  to  adopt  a square  pillar  (Fig.  40), 

Fig.  38. 


against  one  side  of  which  he  built  up  an  engaged  column,  A,  to  carry 
the  cross-vaulting  or  ribs  of  the  aisle,  two  other  columns,  B,  against 
the  two  adjacent  sides  to  bear  the  archivolts  sustaining  the  longitudi- 
nal wall  of  the  nave,  and,  against  the  fourth  or  inner  side,  the  column 
C,  which  arose  from  the  base  to  the  summit  of  the  longitudinal  wall, 
to  act  as  an  interior  buttress  against  the  inward  thrust  of  the  aisle 
vaulting,  and  to  bear  the  end  of  one  of  the  trusses  of  the  timber  roof 
of  the  nave.  Here  again  was  an  instance  of  sound  judgment,  though 
the  ancient  orders  were  sadly  forgotten.  Meanwhile  the  Romanesque 
architect  copied,  as  well  as  he  could,  Roman  or  Byzantine  capitals 
or  composed  capitals  from  Byzantine  ornaments. 

The  Romanesque  architects  had  lost  the  tradition  of  those  excellent 

* Cliurch  of  Vignory,  church  of  Saint  Etienne  at  Beauvais,  of  Tournus,  etc. 
t From  the  nave  of  the  church  of  Saint  Remy  at  Eheims,  tenth  century. 


234 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE, 


Roman  cements,  which  would  have  enabled  them  to  compose  a homo- 
geneous masonry  like  a mass  of  concrete,  nor  did  they  understand 


Fig.  39. 


how  to  make  hydraulic  lime  ; and  they  built  on  elevations  usually 


ROMANESQUE  DEVELOPMENTS  IN  THE  WEST. 


235 


quite  far  from  the  great  water-courses  which  furnish  good  sand.  But 
conscious  that  they  could  not  trust  to  the  cohesion  of  the  poor  mor- 
tars which  they  used,  they  remedied  the  difficulty,  resulting  from  their 

Fig.  40. 


want  of  means,  by  resisting  or  elastic  combinations  of  masonry  as 
necessity  required.  Thus,  for  example,  the  Romans  did  not  hesitate 
to  build  a wall  on  two  arches,  whose  outer  surfaces  or  extrados  met  at 
their  springing  over  the  centre  of  the  supporting  pier  (Rig.  41),  be- 
cause the  combination  A B C,  though  composed  of  inclined  beds,  was 
practically,  by  virtue  of  the  perfect  adherence  of  their  mortars,  a solid 

Fig.  41. 


mass  ; but  if  their  mortars  had  less  cohesion,  we  can  readily  see  that 
the  supported  wall  would  slide  down  the  sloping  upper  surfaces,  E R, 
of  the  arches,  and  thus  bear  upon  the  acute  angle,  R,  like  a wedge. 
Ror  these  reasons,  the  Romanesque  builder  designed  his  pier,  as  indi- 
cated in  Rig.  42,  bearing  his  two  arches,  A,  on  two  capitals,  B,  sepa- 
rated by  the  entire  width  of  the  pier  C,  which  was  strengthened  by 
an  engaged  column.  This  arrangement  avoided  the  difficulty  of 


236 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


bringing  the  supported  wall  to  a sharp  angle  over  the  centre  of  the 
pier,  which  thus  became  entirely  independent  of  the  arches  and  rose 
from  the  base  to  the  roof  by  successive  level  courses  of  masonry.  It 
may  be  said,  this  is  not  architecture,  but  construction.  I reply  that 
we  have  reached  that  period  of  art  when  construction  and  architec- 
ture could  not  be  separated,  when  architecture  had  become  nothing 
more  than  construction  combined  in  such  a manner  as  to  satisfy  all 


Fig.  42. 


practical  requirements,  and  at  the  same  time  to  please  the  eye  by  a 
well-poised  arrangement  of  materials  cut  and  laid  exactly  according 
to  the  necessary  forms  and  dimensions.  When  western  genius  yield- 
ed to  this  principle,  it  began  to  exhibit  its  true  tendencies  and  its 
peculiar  qualities  ; for  then  it  borrowed  less  and  less  from  anterior 
arts,  and  depended  more  and  more  upon  itself,  not  only  with  respect 
to  systems  of  construction  and  general  dispositions,  but  in  the  matter 
of  proportions,  mouldings,  monumental  sculpture,  and  ornamentation 
whether  carved  or  painted.  It  is  not  for  me  to  reproach  the  mediae- 
val masters  for  thus  shaking  off'  their  dependence  upon  foreign  arts. 


MONASTIC  INFLUENCES. 


237 


In  my  opinion,  we  may  say  of  any  nation,  “ Show  me  its  architec- 
ture, and  I shall  know  its  character  ” ; for  up  to  within  very  recent 
times  there  have  existed  between  the  peculiar  genius  of  nations  and 
their  architecture  respectively  relations  so  intimate  that  one  might 
write  the  mental  history  of  such  nations  after  an  examination  of  their 
buildings  ; and  as  in  these  Discourses  I have  imposed  upon  myself 
the  obligation  never  to  advance  an  opinion  which  is  not  based  upon 
facts,  I may  be  allowed  to  justify  this  assertion. 

We  have  already  seen  how  the  arts  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  of 
antiquity  were  a faithful  mirror  of  the  genius  of  those  nations  respec- 
tively. While  the  barbarous  nations  of  the  West,  in  the  earlier  medi- 
aeval times,  were  engaged  in  mutual  warfare,  the  Roman  traditions 
among  them  were  undergoing  a fundamental  change  ; yet  these  na- 
tions meanwhile  developed  no  new  elements  of  their  own.  Rut  after 
this  human  deluge,  nationalities  were  gradually  reconstituted  and 
recognized,  and  their  distinctive  and  indelible  characteristics  began 
to  be  developed.  It  was  not  until  then  that  their  architecture  as- 
sumed definite  form.  In  Gaul,  the  monasteries  first  devoted  them- 
selves to  this  art,  and  made  it  in  their  own  image.  But  in  the 
eleventh  century  the  monasteries  were  not  what  they  subsequently 
became,  — mere  collections  of  men  embodied  in  the  midst  of  con- 
stituted society,  that  they  might  live  in  luxury  and  uselessness  upon 
the  soil  which  had  been  abandoned  to  their  occupation  or  which 
they  had  acquired  in  the  progress  of  time.  The  monasteries  of 
that  day,  when  disorder  and  abuse  reigned  in  all  the  levels  of 
society,  were  the  asylums  of  men  who,  disgusted  with  the  universal 
anarchy  and  oppression  of  the  times,  sought  some  place  of  stabil- 
ity and  repose,  where  they  might  labor  and  study  in  tranquillity 
and  forget  the  world.  The  members  of  the  holy  orders  were  those 
who  yearned  in  some  way  to  emerge  from  barbarism  ; and  the  con- 
vents were  thus  recruited,  not  only  from  the  humbler  classes,  but 
from  among  the  noblest  and  richest  of  the  land.  These  men  in 
this  way  formed  regular  governments  in  the  midst  of  a society  in- 
capable of  governing  itself.  It  will  readily  be  conceived  that  such 
institutions  were  as  useful  and  necessary  in  times  when  every  prin- 
ciple of  authority  and  discipline  was  disregarded,  as  they  would 
be  dangerous  and  hurtful  in  the  midst  of  a well-regulated  and 
well-governed  people.  These  incorporated  bodies  of  scholars  and 
craftsmen  collected  together  the  remains  of  ancient  architecture,  put 


238 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


themselves  in  communication  with  distant  nations,  borrowed  ideas 
from  those  which  enjoyed  the  benefits  of  civilization,  and  lent  to  those 
which  were  still  plunged  in  darkness.  Their  architecture  was  the 
exact  expression  of  this  state  of  things.  In  less  than  a century,  be- 
tween the  tenth  and  eleventh,  they  were  sufficiently  advanced  in  the 
art  to  develop  this  expression  ; they  were  humble  in  principle  and 
means,  yet  they  could  embody  the  splendid  dreams  of  those  who, 
at  the  time  of  the  reform  of  Cluny,  fired  by  conscious  superiority 
of  intellect,  culture,  and  discipline,  aimed  at  nothing  less  than  uni- 
versal dominion.  This  monastic  Romanesque  architecture  Avas  a true 
and  living  art,  because  it  expressed  itself  as  well  in  the  humblest 
chapel,  built  in  the  wilderness  in  obedience  to  some  pious  vow,  as  in 
the  immense  and  splendid  basilica  of  Cluny;  it  was  an  architecture 
which,  with  the  same  methods,  was  capable  of  creating  the  most  ex- 
tensive as  well  as  the  most  modest  monuments  ; like  the  religious 
confederation  which  built  them,  its  strength  was  the  combination  and 
discipline  of  small  resources.  Meanwhile,  the  feudal  fortress  pre- 
served the  traditions  of  the  ancient  Roman  construction,  because  it 
was  built  in  the  same  manner,  by  means  of  service-labor  or  requisi- 
tions. At  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century,  the  monks,  already  at  the 
summit  of  their  power,  aimed  at  a corresponding  splendor  in  their 
arts  ; they  sacrificed  to  luxury  without  changing  their  characteristic 
style  ; but  their  magnificent  edifices  were  often  constructed  with  pre- 
cipitation and  carelessness,  while  the  lay  nobles,  who,  at  that  time, 
desired  rather  to  protect  themselves  with  good  walls  than  to  adorn 
their  castles  with  the  appointments  of  wealth,  built  substantially  and 
refrained  from  that  architectural  splendor  in  which  the  monasteries 
were  beginning  to  indulge.  Saint  Bernard,  perceiving  the  danger,  es- 
tablished his  reform  of  Cîteaux  ; the  movement  was  immediately  felt 
in  the  architecture  of  the  buildings  of  that  order.  Thus,  if,  through 
the  Romanesque  severity  of  outline,  which  was  still  the  peculiarity 
of  all  the  Clunisian  work,  we  may  detect  in  the  twelfth  century  a 
decided  tendency  for  rich  effects,  an  unrestrained  indulgence  of 
fancy  or  caprice  in  matters  of  detail,  an  increased  refinement  of 
sculpture,  mingled,  however,  with  an  evident  deterioration  in  the 
workmanlike  qualities  of  structure,  we  may  see,  on  the  contrary, 
among  the  Cistercians,  the  marks  of  a severe  rule,  in  the  care  and 
system  with  which  they  built,  and  in  their  observance  of  inflexible  for- 
mulas, which  admitted  nothing  superfluous,  nothing  but  a scrupulous 


IM  U 


THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  VÉZELAY. 

14 


SECTIONS. 


N 


RISE  OE  LAY  OR  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE. 


239 


fulfilment  of  material  requirements  by  men  wlio  had  no  other  idea 
than  the  performance  of  duties.  We  can  recognize  the  Cistercian 
monuments  at  first  sight  by  the  economy  and  solidity  of  their  con- 
structions. We  thus  perceive  that,  during  the  Romanesque  period, 
there  were  certain  various  and  distinct  architectural  expressions,  just 
as,  in  the  midst  of  the  politics  of  that  day,  there  were  various  soci- 
eties, all  moving  in  a parallel  direction,  but  no  established  social 
unity.  There  was  the  architecture  of  the  black  monks,  that  of  the 
white  monks,  and  there  was  feudal  architecture  ; but  there  was  no 
grand  architectural  unity,  because  there  was  no  political  unity,  yet 
every  one  of  the  architectural  systems  was  a distinct  expression  of 
the  manners,  tastes,  habits,  and  tendencies  of  those  who  created 
them. 

It  was  not  until  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century  that  a real  national 
spirit  began  to  make  itself  felt  in  various  efforts,  attended  with  more 
or  less  success,  towards  the  enfranchisement  of  the  commons,  in  scho- 
lastic discussions,  in  the  study  of  ancient  philosophy,  and  in  the  pro- 
gress of  monarchical  power.  Enlightened  men  tended  more  and  more 
towards  the  encyclopedic  spirit  and  the  application  of  the  exact 
sciences.  Then  monastic  influences  disappeared  forever  from  the 
history  of  art.  Architecture  fell  into  the  hands  of  laymen,  and  in  a 
few  years  abandoned  the  Romanesque  traditions,  not  only  in  respect 
to  everything  affecting  the  structure,  the  material  execution,  but  in  its 
sculpture,  from  which  all  the  suggestions  of  ancient  or  Byzantine 
art  were  jealously  excluded  ; it  was  not  among  these,  but  among 
the  flowers  of  the  field  and  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  that  its  decorative 
motives  were  universally  obtained.  In  its  statuary  also  it  imitated 
nature,  and  no  longer  adhered  to  those  consecrated  types  from  the 
East  which  the  monastic  architects  had  so  scrupulously  preserved. 
Then,  in  all  the  cities  of  the  royal  domain,  was  formed  a nucleus  of 
truly  national  artists,  who,  in  their  emulation,  urged  the  new  art  to 
such  rapid  development,  that  the  same  generation  witnessed  its  birth 
and  its  maturity.  This  architecture  of  the  beginning  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  is  the  purest  and  most  exact  reflection  of  the  national 
ideas  at  that  epoch.  The  reaction  against  religious  establishments, 
the  desire  for  a national  union  and  constitution,  the  spirit  of  investi- 
gation, the  thirst  for  knowledge,  the  prompt  practical  application  of 
all  information  as  soon  as  acquired,  — all  these  things  were  uncon- 
sciously expressed  by  the  builders  in  their  works  ; they  reasoned  and 


240 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


examined  at  every  step,  they  believed  in  the  progress  of  science  and 
indulged  in  the  boldest  experiments,  without  pausing  for  a moment 
in  their  onward  march.  In  this  movement  of  general  intelligence, 
individualities  soon  disappeared,  and  architecture  became  a science. 
We  must  not  forget  that  the  architecture  of  that  day  was  cultivated 
only  by  laymen  having  under  them  incorporate  bodies  or  guilds  of 
craftsmen.  It  would  seem  that  the  middle  classes,  in  the  midst  of 
the  political  tumults  of  the  time,  felt  the  necessity  of  uniting  for 
the  salce  of  giving  free  expression  to  their  convictions  ; thus,  as  it 
were,  declaring  themselves  independent  of  the  past  and  opening  new 
paths  of  development.  This  class  of  artists  and  artisans,  not  being 
able  to  claim  political  privileges,  and  not  hoping  to  equal  the  feudal 
nobility  in  power,  demanded  the  liberty  of  the  workman  ; they 
guarded  all  the  approaches  to  architectural  knowledge  by  initiations 
and  freemasonry,  and  their  aim  was  to  render  these  initiations  more 
difficult  every  day  ; conscious  that,  with  no  material  possessions  or 
political  power,  study  and  the  practice  of  the  arts  alone  could  insure 
them  a moral  independence,  they  studied  and  practised  accordingly 
with  diligence  and  enthusiasm  ; they  complicated  and  made  mysteri- 
ous their  rules  of  practice,  in  order  that  they  might  remain  masters 
of  the  art,  and  constrain  the  secular  and  clerical  nobility  to  approach 
them  with  the  consideration  due  to  a body  isolated  and  abstruse  in 
knowledge  and  skill.  To  believe  that  the  art  of  architecture  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  the  art  called  Gothic,  was  an  art  without  intimate 
relations  with  the  society  of  that  epoch,  is  to  misunderstand  entirely 
the  national  spirit.  It  was  but  the  awakening  of  the  old  Gallic 
spirit,  — the  spirit  which  was  passionate  in  the  pursuit,  development, 
and  practical  establishment  of  an  idea,  which  aimed  at  independence 
by  concentrating  its  forces  in  obscurity,  which,  in  spite  of  all  which 
is  said  of  its  levity,  could  patiently  wait  and  bide  its  time  until  it 
could  come  to  light  by  every  available  issue.  Gothic  architecture, 
in  its  origin,  was  a protestation  against  monastic  power  ; it  was  the 
first  and  most  vigorous  effort  of  science,  investigation,  and  the  pur- 
suit of  truth  against  tradition.  Its  monuments,  Avhose  structure 
reposed  on  entirely  novel  principles,  and  whose  decoration  borrowed 
nothing  from  precedent,  are  still  before  our  eyes  ; their  stones  speak 
to  us,  not  “ of  suffering,”  as  has  been  lately  said  at  the  Academy  of 
Tine  Arts,  but  of  the  freedom  of  labor,  the  triumph  of  an  intelli- 
gence which  felt,  acted,  and  became  independent,  which  ironically 


FRENCH  GOTHIC,  A NATIONAL  ARCHITECTURE.  241 


concealed  its  secrets  from  blind  and  indifferent  masters,  knowing 
that  in  time  it  would  become  in  turn  greater  and  more  powerful  than 
they.  Developed  with  incredible  rapidity,  arrived  at  the  summit  of 
its  glory  in  fifty  years  after  its  first  essays,  this  phase  of  architecture, 
having  mastered  its  peculiar  principles  of  construction  and  expres- 
sion, soon  urged  these  principles  to  exaggeration  ; it  vigorously 
followed  a logical  progress  which  presently  conducted  to  abuse  ; 
but,  from  the  thirteenth  to  the  fifteenth  century,  it  never  for  a mo- 
ment deviated  from  the  line  traced  from  the  beginning;  it  perfected 
its  practical  means  as  no  art  at  any  time  has  been  perfected  ; as  re- 
garded its  structure,  it  finally  arrived  at  a formula,  and  as  regarded 
its  decoration,  it  reached  servile  imitation,  and,  in  the  end,  trans- 
gressed the  bounds  of  nature  ; it  pushed  realism  to  the  point  of 
adopting,  in  its  statuary,  ugliness,  but  studied  ugliness,  as  a type  of 
humanity.  But  never  did  the  mechanical  execution  decline,  as  was 
the  case  with  Roman  art  : there  was  exaggeration  and  abuse,  but  no 
decline  ; so  that,  when  the  sixteenth  century  proposed  to  return  to 
the  imitation  of  ancient  architecture,  it  found  at  hand  capable  archi- 
tects and  skilful  workmen,  versed  in  all  the  practical  knowledge 
of  their  art. 

Now,  what  do  we  behold  in  Italy  during  this  period  between  the 
thirteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  ? At  first,  great  indecision  ; an  art, 
or  rather  arts,  which  experimented  and  submitted  to  very  various 
influences  ; but  no  distinct  principle,  no  relation  between  the  struc- 
ture and  the  decoration  ; a love  of  luxury,  of  appearance , combined 
with  a barbarous  execution  ; it  was  possessed  by  the  spirit  of  decay  ; 
its  decoration  was  not  ancient  sculpture,  nor  yet,  as  in  France,  an 
honest  imitation  of  the  local  flora;  it  was  a compromise  without 
style  or  character,  a cross  between  Roman  and  Byzantine  traditions 
and  the  influence  of  northern  arts.  It  was  hardly  before  the  fifteenth 
century  that  we  find  at  last,  not  an  architecture,  indeed,  but  archi- 
tects, in  Italy.  It  would  seem  that  from  the  day  when  that  country 
was  torn  from  the  empire  of  Rome,  it  became  the  very  image  of  dis- 
integration. There  were  rival  cities  disputing  the  soil  between 
themselves,  but  no  nationality  ; and  in  the  productions  of  art  there 
were  artists,  but  no  principles.  Individualities  were  sometimes  bril- 
liant, but  they  were  only  individualities.  Thus  the  study  of  the  art 
of  architecture  in  mediaeval  Italy  develops  biographies,  but  not  his- 
tory, and  therefore  can  afford  but  little  profitable  instruction.  The 
16 


242 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Italians  of  the  Middle  Ages,  failing  to  create  an  art  as  they  had 
failed  to  constitute  themselves  a nation,  naturally  reverted  to  imita- 
tion of  Roman  art  ; this  movement  was  made  a century  before  the 
corresponding  Renaissance  in  France,  and  was  essentially  a move- 
ment of  individuals.  Thus  we  speak  of  the  Renaissance  of  Brunel- 
leschi, of  Michelozzo,  of  L.  Batista  Alberti,  of  Bramante,  of  Bal- 
thazar Peruzzi,  of  Sansovino.  The  works  of  these  masters,  whatever 
may  be  their  particular  merit,  are  individual  works  between  which 
there  is  none  of  that  affinity  which  we  like  to  find  in  the  produc- 
tions of  a national  art,  and  which  is  so  strikingly  exhibited,  during 
the  sixteenth  century,  throughout  the  territory  of  France,  from  the 
Garonne  to  the  British  Channel.  We  shall  presently  see  how, 
through  the  influence  of  the  Italian  masters  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
the  young  French  nobility  on  their  return  from  the  campaigns  of 
Charles  VIII.  and  Louis  XII.  in  Italy,  came  to  build  Italian  palaces 
in  France,  and  at  the  same  time  how  shrewdly  the  French  artists 
in  their  employ  preserved  the  tradition  of  their  old  independence, 
and  still  remained  French. 

From  the  thirteenth  to  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century  the 
art  of  architecture  in  France  was  so  concrete,  so  entire,  so  completely 
under  the  control  of  an  exclusive  brotherhood,  that  no  external  in- 
fluence was  felt  in  it  ; neither  the  clergy,  in  the  construction  of 
churches,  nor  the  secular  nobility,  in  the  building  of  palaces  and 
châteaux,  nor  the  rich  merchants,  in  the  erection  of  their  houses, 
made  any  effort  to  submit  art  to  their  fancies  ; they  could  not  if  they 
would  ; art  was  absolutely  independent  ; it  was  a power  which  they 
could  use  when  they  required  it,  but  which  they  could  not  direct  ; it 
acted  with  perfect  freedom  and  governed  itself  : in  a word,  the  archi- 
tects formed  a body  possessing,  in  the  domain  of  art,  their  privileges 
and  immunities,  which  no  one  dreamed  of  interfering  with.  During 
this  period  of  the  Middle  Ages  every  one  kept  within  his  own  sphere  ; 
the  clergy  sought  to  maintain  and  to  augment  their  prerogatives  ; the 
secular  feudality  struggled  to  defend  itself  against  the  encroachments 
of  royal  power,  and  was  in  perpetual  warfare  with  the  clerical  feudal- 
ity and  with  the  inhabitants  of  the  cities  and  towns  ; while  royalty 
was  engrossed  in  the  increase  of  its  political  power.  But  neither 
clerks,  laymen,  nor  king  dreamed  of  interfering  in  any  question  of 
art  ; they  did  not  perceive  and  consequently  did  not  fear  this  new 
and  independent  power  which  was  elevating  itself  by  daily  labor  ; 


FRENCH  RECEPTION  OF  ITALIAN  RENAISSANCE.  243 


they  found  artists  and  artisans  ; they  employed  hut  did  not  govern 
them. 

But  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  nobility,  on  their  re- 
turn from  the  Italian  wars,  began  to  pride  themselves  on  their  ac- 
quaintance with,  and  appreciation  of,  the  fine  arts  ; they  professed  an 
extravagant  fondness  for  Italian  works,  and  thus  the  body  of  amateurs, 
which,  ever  since  that  time,  has  exercised  so  powerful  but  so  melan- 
choly an  influence  over  the  fine  arts,  began  to  be  formed.  On  their 
return  the  French  gentlemen  at  once  set  themselves  to  replacing  their 
old  chateaux  and  manor-houses  by  palaces  in  the  modern  taste  ; and 
adorned  them  with  porticos,  colonnades,  galleries,  and  symmetrical 
façades.  The  old  Gallic  artists,  having  exhausted  all  the  resources 
with  which  the  principles  of  Gothic  art  could  furnish  them,  were 
then  constrained  to  adopt  the  new  taste  of  their  clients.  The 
art-movement  of  the  thirteenth  century  was  initiated  and  developed 
by  artists  ; in  the  sixteenth  century  they  were  compelled  to  accept 
the  art  which  was  imposed  upon  them.  But,  while  they  adopted 
the  appearance  of  this  new  foreign  importation,  they  preserved  the 
national  spirit  in  their  designs,  and  continued  to  produce  build- 
ings, which,  while  they  were  clothed  in  the  fashionable  garments 
of  the  day,  composed  of  a few  fragments  from  the  Italian  Renais- 
sance, still  remained  Gothic  in  general  arrangement  and  structure. 
As  the  ancient  orders  were  called  for,  they  presently  adopted  them  as 
a decoration  ; the  local  flora  of  their  sculpture  was  replaced  by  ara- 
besques and  their  prismatic  profiles  by  Italian  mouldings.  Jupiter, 
Venus,  and  Diana,  nymphs  and  Tritons,  assumed  the  places  which 
had  been  occupied  by  angels,  saints,  and  personages  clothed  in  the 
costumes  of  the  day.  The  lords  of  the  manors  were  delighted, 
and  even  the  artists,  who  at  that  time  believed  nearly  as  much  in 
Diana  or  Mercury  as  in  angels  or  saints,  were  not  less  satisfied 
at  being  disembarrassed  of  the  remnants  of  Gothic  art,  which,  in 
the  intricacy  and  extravagance  of  its  details,  had  reached  the  last 
limits  of  the  possible.  But  as  for  the  vital  principles  of  that  art,  as 
for  the  methods  which  were  the  daughters  of  many  successive  centu- 
ries of  experience,  these  remained  unchanged  ; and  the  architects,  who 
so  readily  exchanged  their  old  Gothic  ornaments  for  the  fashionable 
gewgaws  of  the  foreigner,  borrowed  from  him  neither  his  methods  of 
construction  nor  the  disposition  of  his  plans.  They  continued  to  plan 
and  to  construct  like  their  Gothic  predecessors,  to  cover  their  build- 


244 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


ings  with  steep  roofs,  and  to  crown  them  with  conspicuous  chimney- 
shafts,  to  build  their  porticos  low  for  shelter  from  the  rain,  their  mnl- 
lioned  windows,  their  narrow  and  numerous  staircases,  their  grand 
saloons  flooded  with  light  for  receptions,  and  their  smaller  apartments 
for  domestic  and  daily  use  ; like  their  predecessors,  they  remained 
regardless  of  symmetry,  and  still  flanked  their  masses  with  towers 
or  pavilions,  still  retained  their  old  traditions  of  defensive  architec- 
ture, still  pierced  their  windows  with  regard  only  to  the  accommoda- 
tion of  the  interior  apartments,  and  still  gave  an  independent  and 
characteristic  architectural  expression  to  the  various  subdivisions  of 
their  châteaux.  Meanwhile  the  noble  amateurs  applauded  vehe- 
mently when  they  saw  columns  and  Italian  porticos,  arabesques 
and  Caryatides,  on  the  façades  of  their  palaces  ; and  everybody 
said,  what  has  been  foolishly  repeated  ever  since,  that  these  edifices 
were  the  works  of  the  Giocondos,  the  Rossos,  the  Primaticcios, 
and  Serlios,  who  had  come  over  from  Italy  to  teach  Frenchmen 
the  arts  ! 

It  is  worth  noting  that  most  of  the  artists  embraced  the  party  of 
the  Reformation  as  soon  as  it  began  to  make  proselytes  in  France. 
But,  in  the  midst  of  all  its  glory,  the  sixteenth  century  in  France  was 
an  era  of  constant  and,  at  times,  tragic  insincerity.  Every  one  de- 
ceived his  neighbor  ; every  one  made  a parade  of  sentiments  opposed 
to  his  real  opinions  or  interests.  Both  Catholics  and  Reformers 
were  the  most  sceptical  of  people,  but  they  waged  bitter  war  against 
each  other  for  the  sake  of  their  respective  religions.  The  Reforma- 
tion recruited  itself  principally  among  the  higher  classes,  who  had 
everything  to  lose  in  a social  revolution,  and  who  never  applied 
the  Reformation  to  their  own  manners.  The  people,  who  had 
nothing  to  lose  by  a social  revolution  and  everything  to  gain,  de- 
fended their  religious  traditions  with  fanaticism  ; but  with  this  de- 
fence of  the  Church  and  with  their  loyalty  to  the  most  despotic 
of  Catholic  kings,  they  strangely  mingled  republican  sentiments. 
Royalty  was  feeble  and  indecisive  at  the  moment  when  energy  was 
most  necessary.  And  he  who  at  length  arose  to  restore  peace  to 
the  country,  Henry  IV.,  was  the  shrewdest  and  most  ingenious  mysti- 
fier of  all.  The  arts  of  the  time  were  a faithful  image  of  this  chaos 
of  popular  ideas.  Confusion,  with  no  unity  or  harmony  between 
principles  and  appearances,  an  exaggerated  importance  given  to  de- 
tails, an  execution  often  negligent,  always  mannered,  indecisive,  and 


PROGRESS  OF  FRENCH  RENAISSANCE. 


245 


tame,  were  the  leading  characteristics  of  its  architecture.  A few 
individualities  arose  in  the  midst  of  this  general  political  disorder, 
lnit  they  left  no  trace  behind  them.  They  were  flashes,  but  not 
light.  The  century,  so  brilliant  in  its  first  years,  thus  closed  in  the 
midst  of  ruin.  Meanwhile,  under  all  this  disorder,  the  civil  spirit 
Avas  forming,  the  sentiment  of  political  duty  was  developing,  national 
unity  was  still  progressing  to  a fuller  and  more  complete  expression. 

In  the  first  years  of  the  seventeenth  century,  we  find  a revolution 
in  the  arts;  they  had  recovered  from  their  Italian  fascination,  and 
the  civil  structures  erected  on  Trench  soil  assumed  a new  character. 
The  disordered  fancies  or  mystifications  of  the  Renaissance,  as  well  as 
the  Gothic  traditions,  ceased  to  influence  design,  and  the  old  Gallic 
spirit  reappeared  with  renewed  energy.  Architecture  became  reason- 
able, chastened,  and  modest  in  its  ornamentation,  and  in  structure 
severe  and  studied  ; it  affected  a sort  of  Puritanic  rigor  and  simplici- 
ty, employing  only  the  means  and  forms  necessary  to  the  expression 
of  its  practical  requirements,  and  reaching  a result  of  dignified  repose 
without  pedantry.  Construction  was  the  main  element  of  design,  it 
was  emphasized  and  honored.  The  result  was  solidity  without 
clumsiness,  gravity  without  nakedness.  It  was  the  architecture  of 
men  of  sense,  comparatively  well  instructed,  and  free  from  the  illu- 
sions of  prejudice.  It  was  the  expression  of  wealth  without  osten- 
tation, comfort  without  effeminacy.  In  short,  it  resumed,  for  a short 
career,  that  character  of  independence  which  it  had  lost  amidst  the 
artifice  and  insincerity  of  the  preceding  century. 

The  architecture  comprised  between  the  close  of  the  reign  of 
Henry  IV.  and  the  majority  of  Louis  XIV.  was  truly  French,  and, 
next  to  the  architecture  of  the  twelfth,  thirteenth,  and  fourteenth 
centuries,  it  seems  to  me  that  which  best  merits  the  title.  In  going 
over  a chateau  or  mansion  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIII.,  we  seem  to 
live  among  those  who  first  inhabited  it.  These  edifices  were  the 
envelope  and  index  of  the  society  of  that  epoch, — a society  which 
was  the  last  to  leave  a profound  impression  on  the  history  of  litera- 
ture, science,  and  the  arts,  the  last  to  be  distinguished  at  the  same 
time  for  firm  and  independent  characters  and  for  that  lively  and 
elegant  spirit,  that  good-natured  irony,  which  are  the  peculiarities 
of  the  French  people. 

The  long  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  served,  after  much  ado,  to  stifle  this 
final  effort  of  the  true  French  spirit  in  the  arts.  Louis  XIV.  loved 


240 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


to  build  ; but  lie  brought  to  the  arts  tendencies  opposed  to  their  true 
and  healthy  development  : for  the  arts  can  live  only  with  the  intel- 
lectual independence  of  the  artist.  After  the  time  of  his  majority, 
therefore,  the  good  and  wise  traditions  of  construction  gradually  dis- 
appeared, workmanship  became  more  and  more  negligent,  masons 
built  badly,  carpenters  could  not  frame  a wooden  structure  with 
economy  and  intelligence,  and  sculptors  lost  that  tirmness  of  hand, 
that  refinement  of  sentiment  and  feeling  for  truth,  which  they  still 
possessed  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century  ; their  heavy 
chisels  produced  only  works  monotonous  without  character,  pompous 
without  grandeur;  the  old  craft-spirit  and  the  trade  corporations 
disappeared  ; and  all  that  was  truly  national  in  French  art  became 
effete  and  barren.  I have  sometimes  been  accused  of  undue  severity 
and  even  of  injustice  towards  the  arts  of  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.  ; 
although  that  age  may  be  great  enough  in  all  which  it  has  accom- 
plished to  be  able  to  dispense  with  the  tribute  of  my  admiration, 
yet  I must  justify  my  opinions.  It  is  because  I behold  in  Louis 
XIV.  a great  king,  that  I cannot  but  regret  to  find  in  him  a 
spirit  little  disposed  to  aid  in  any  true  development  of  the  arts. 
When  a sovereign  manifests  no  disposition  to  interfere  with  cjues- 
tions  of  art,  but  leaves  them  absolutely  free,  he  cannot,  be  considered 
responsible  for  their  progress  or  decline  during  his  reign  ; but  when 
an  absolute  monarch  undertakes  to  exercise  an  influence  over  eveiy- 
thing,  even  over  the  works  of  intellect  among  his  subjects,  it  is  cer- 
tainly allowable,  I think,  to  render  him  responsible  for  decay  in  any 
such  works  ; and  no  one  will  dispute  the  fact  that  the  art  of  architec- 
ture was  more  brilliant  at  the  moment  of  the  majority  of  Louis  XIV. 
than  at  his  death.  It  was  with  his  architects  as  with  his  ministers 
and  generals  ; he  began  by  calling  to  his  councils  Colbert  and  Lou- 
vois,  and  ended  with  Chamillart  and  Ponchartrain  ; he  found  De 
Bi  ■osse.  Le  Mercier,  Blondel,  and  François  Mansart,  and  finished  by 
confiding  the  public  works  to  Perrault  and  Hardoin-Mansart,  the 
last  one  very  fortunate  in  possessing  the  name  of  his  uncle,  but  unfor- 
tunately possessing  nothing  else  of  his.  Louis  XIV.,  that  king  so 
French,  so  jealous  of  foreign  influences  in  all  other  respects,  saw  the 
arts  only  through  the  Romans,  and  what  Romans  ! He  was  natu- 
rally wise,  self-contained,  moderate  in  all  things,  just  and  discrimi- 
nating, yet,  as  he  was  ambitious  to  rival  antique  Rome,  he  succeeded, 
as  regards  art,  in  completely  crushing  the  natural  and  original  genius 


THE  HOPE  OE  ERENCH  ARCHITECTURE. 


247 


of  the  French  people,  whose  political  unity  he  had  cemented  and 
whose  empire  he  had  enlarged  and  strengthened. 

After  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  French  art  was  evidently 
bewildered  ; its  history  was  a perpetual  contradiction  ; it  lost  its  way. 
Under  Catherine  de  Medicis,  both  people  and  artists  had  a natural 
aversion  for  everything  from  Italy,  and  yet  they  imitated  Italian  arts. 
Under  Henry  IV.  and  Louis  XIII.,  they  swore  by  antiquity,  and  yet 
the  arts  resumed  their  peculiar  French  character.  Under  Louis  XIV. 
the  people  thought  only  what  Louis  XIV.  thought.  Though  the 
most  intensely  national  of  all  the  sovereigns  of  France,  he  determined 
to  have  a Roman  architecture.  Like  a Roman  emperor,  he  caused 
himself  to  be  painted  and  sculptured  everwhere.  Under  Louis  XV., 
politics,  like  the  arts,  declined.  Philosophers  spoke  in  the  name  of 
reason,  yet  never  were  the  arts  less  reasonable.  Under  the  republic, 
the  national  spirit  was  developed  even  to  delirium  ; yet  our  national 
edifices  were  overthrown,  and  Rome  was  rummaged  for  models. 
While  crying,  “ Death  to  aristocrats  ! ” France  was  endeavoring  to 
reproduce  the  architecture  of  the  most  aristocratic  civilization  of 
antiquity. 

I have  no  exaggerated  patriotism  as  regards  art.  The  arts,  wher- 
ever they  are  developed,  belong  to  humanity  ; I admit  that  they  have 
no  country.  But  every  people,  or  rather  every  centre  of  civilization 
(for  political  limits  do  not  always  coincide  with  those  embracing  the 
characteristics  of  a nationality),  has,  as  I have  already  said,  its  pe- 
culiar genius,  its  individuality,  which  should  not  be  overlooked, 
especially  by  artists  ; and  it  is  because  we  have  too  often  committed 
the  error  of  not  understanding  the  national  genius  of  France,  that, 
for  the  last  two  hundred  years,  its  arts,  after  so  many  variations, 
have  become  debased,  attaching  themselves  by  their  essential  char- 
acteristics to  no  particular  time  or  race.  It  is  a fine  thing  to  have 
the  cosmopolitan  spirit,  to  receive  all  human  beings  as  brethren,  and 
to  consider  all  ideas  as  universal  property  ; but  facts  are  continually 
demonstrating  that,  the  French  brain  is  not  constructed  like  the  Ger- 
man or  the  English.  It  is  well  for  us  to  profit  by  the  ideas  of  our 
neighbors,  but  let  us  not  forget  that,  we  have  our  own  ideas,  and, 
most  especially,  let  us  not  be  deluded  into  the  belief  that.,  because 
other  nations  may  have  been  endowed  with  rare  intelligence  and 
creative  originality,  it  is  impossible  that  we  too  should  have  the  same 
qualities.  It  is  not  my  task  to  treat  here  of  the  present  condition  of 


248 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


art,  but  rather  to  investigate  into  its  capacities  for  a truly  national, 
and  therefore  healthy,  development.  This  is  the  point  to  which  we 
all  should  aim  ; for  I cannot  admit  that,  while  France  exists,  its  arts 
can  perish.  The  sap  is  in  a latent  state  ; and  only  a short  season  of 
intellectual  sunshine,  only  a little  good  sense,  is  required  to  send  its 
invigorating  and  prolific  influences  even  to  the  feeblest  branches  of 
the  tree. 

Perhaps  I have  dwelt  too  long  in  this  Discourse  on  the  epoch  of 
the  transition  of  the  arts  of  antiquity  to  the  arts  of  modern  times  ; 
but  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  we  have  to  encounter  deeply  rooted 
prejudices  at  every  step.  If  these  prejudices  tended  only  to  create 
a misunderstanding  regarding  the  importance  of  certain  historical 
facts,  to  perpetuate  certain  exclusions  in  the  study  of  art,  I per- 
haps would  not  have  paused  so  long  to  consider  the  Byzantine 
arts,  the  principles  of  the  western  arts,  their  tendencies  and  value. 
But  these  prejudices,  it  seems  to  me,  are  attended  by  a much 
more  serious  inconvenience  ; they  create  a complete  misunderstand- 
ing of  the  nature  of  modern  western  genius,  and  drive  us,  who  are 
better  fitted  than  any  other  nation  of  the  West  for  the  culture  of 
the  arts,  to  the  last  and  worst  expedients.  This  is  unjust  and  ab- 
surd ; it  prevents  us  from  profiting  by  the  efforts  of  our  forefathers, 
and  quite  effaces  the  well-reasoned  and  cautiously  deduced  results  of 
long  experience.  Mediaeval  art,  to  which  I am  referring,  was  unfor- 
tunate in  this  one  respect  : it  developed  too  soon.  During  this  epoch 
of  development  it  completely  disembarrassed  itself  of  everything 
which  could  interfere  with  its  independence  and  its  national  char- 
acter ; it  modified  its  traditions,  it  admitted  principles  as  liberal  as 
could  be  desired,  it  found  a new  path  entirely  unobstructed  by  prej- 
udice, and  all  this  while  pursuing  distinct  and  firmly  established 
methods.  It  fell  with  the  feudal  system  under  which  it  had  been 
born  ; though  neither  itself,  in  its  own  essence,  nor  the  people,  the 
laity,  from  whom  it  issued,  had  any  sympathy  with  that  system.  It 
was  enveloped  in  the  disaster  of  mediaeval  institutions,  but  should 
not  be  misunderstood  and  disgraced  on  that  account.  Because,  for 
more  than  three  centuries,  this  national  art  has  been  so  misunderstood 
and  disgraced,  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  revive  it,  why  we 
should  not  seek  in  its  principles,  so  large  and  so  nearly  assimilated 
to  our  national  character,  elements  which  may  be  of  essential  use 
to  us  to-day.  Our  character  and  our  tendencies  are  the  same  now 


THE  HOPE  OF  FRENCH  ARCHITECTURE. 


240 


as  when  this  was  a living  art  ; for  nationalities  never  undergo  trans- 
formation. Every  day’s  experience  proves  to  us  (and  now,  perhaps, 
more  than  ever  before)  that  neither  conquests,  nor  institutions,  nor 
political  boundaries,  nor  combinations  of  diplomacy,  have  any  ten- 
dency to  modify  the  spirit  or  genius  of  the  races  which  inhabit  the 
globe.  The  arts,  therefore,  so  brilliantly  developed  in  the  era  from 
the  twelfth  to  the  fifteenth  century,  are  ours,  they  are  the  result  of 
our  labors  and  our  genius  ; as-  they  have  shown  themselves  capable 
of  expressing  the  character  and  conditions  of  the  past,  they  are 
capable  of  a similar  application  to  the  present  and  the  future.  The 
civilizations  of  antiquity  perished,  because  they  were  composed  only 
of  masters  and  slaves.  In  antiquity  there  was  nowhere  what  we 
now  call  a nation,  that  is  to  say,  an  agglomeration  of  provinces 
united  by  the  same  spirit  and  the  same  habits  of  thought,  all  of 
whose  members  are  interested  in  the  preservation  of  the  national 
unity  and  contribute  towards  it. 

In  antiquity  we  see  absolute  monarchies  supported  by  a theocracy, 
we  see  oligarchical  or  aristocratic  republics,  and  a coarse,  ignorant 
population,  the  dregs  and  slaves  of  society.  Every  inspiration,  every 
movement,  every  intellectual  work,  every  sentiment  of  dignity  and 
independence,  came  from  the  higher  classes.  Not  so  with  France  : 
the  nation  formed  itself  and  developed  itself,  independently  of  the  in- 
stitutions which  were  imposed  upon  it  as  the  result  of  conquest,  and, 
even  to  this  day,  on  great  occasions,  it  often  acts  from  a popular  and 
irrepressible  impulse,  contrary  to  the  calculations  of  the  most  skilful 
and  experienced  statesmen.  Happy  the  ruler  who  comprehends  and 
dares  to  confide  in  its  genius  and  instincts  ! Secular  or  ecclesiastical 
feudalism  was  with  the  nation,  but  not  of  the  nation  ; the  national 
spirit  developed  and  progressed  without  the  knowledge  of  the  nobles. 
They  made  use  of  it,  indeed,  but  never  attempted  to  direct  or  to 
shackle  it,  until,  to  their  surprise,  they  found  that  it  had  expanded 
far  beyond  their  reach.  In  this  is  the  whole  history  of  French  art, 
and  in  this  the  assurance  that,  notwithstanding  three  centuries  ol 
oppression,  it  cannot  perish. 

The  reaction  has  begun  ; we  possess  the  elements  of  it,  inasmuch 
as,  for  the  last  twenty-five  or  thirty  years,  our  artisans  and  workmen 
have  eagerly  and  readily  accepted  every  attempt  to  revive  the  national 
arts.  Even  at  this  day,  as  has  ever  been  the  case  in  France,  the 
movement  has  begun,  not  from  the  wealth  or  power  or  superior  edu- 


250 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


cation  of  the  leaders  of  society,  hut  from  the  national  instinct  of  the 
people.  The  work  has  commenced  in  the  cabinet  and  workshop  ; 
and  inasmuch  as  the  last  of  our  workmen  evinces  a tendency  to  rea- 
son, a desire  to  comprehend  that  which  he  has  to  do,  and  not  to  do 
it  as  a mere  mechanical  task,  and  as  he  is  enthusiastic  over  such 
works  as  in  general  design  and  detail  have  a logical  sense  in  his 
mind,  the  old  spirit  of  the  lay  artisans  of  the  twelfth  century  seems 
to  be  gradually  awakening. 

In  fine,  our  workmen  are  made  of  the  same  clay  as  our  soldiers  ; 
both  devote  themselves  so  much  the  more  willingly  to  the  perform- 
ance of  their  duties,  when  they  know  the  object  of  their  duties  and 
know  that  this  object  is  noble.  But  our  century  has  not  yet  said  all 
that  it  has  to  say  ; there  is  time  enough  by  and  by  to  appreciate  the 
value  of  these  facts,  to  consider  the  importance  of  the  elements  at  our 
disposal,  and  to  seek  the  means  of  making  them  useful. 


SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


ON  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  WESTERN  ARCHITECTURE  IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES. 

HE  architecture  of  the  ancients  was  for  a loin?  time 
studied  without  any  regard  for  the  effects  which 
they  produced  by  the  application  of  color  to  form, 
whether  this  color  was  obtained  by  incrustations 
and  slabs  of  marble  or  by  paintings  on  plaster. 
The  Orientals,  like  the  Greeks  and  even  the 
Romans,  never  considered  it  essential  that  the  real  material  of  the 
edifice  should  remain  apparent.  Thus,  even  when  the  Greeks  em- 
ployed white  marble,  they  were  accustomed  to  cover  it  with  color. 
However  thin  we  may  suppose  this  color  to  have  been  (and  all  ap- 
pearances seem  to  indicate  that  it  was,  on  the  contrary,  laid  on  in 
decided  and  heavy  coats),  its  effect  was  no  less  to  conceal  the  real 
material  under  a sort  of  envelope  quite  independent  of  the  structure. 
I cannot  readily  admit  the  possibility  of  a mistake  on  the  part  of  the 
Greeks  in  the  execution  of  their  works  of  art  ; and  if,  in  any  such 
respect,  their  proceedings  seem  strange  and  incomprehensible  to  us,  I 
would  rather  attribute  the  apparant  anomaly  to  the  imperfection  of 
our  senses  than  to  an  error  on  their  part. 

The  investigations  of  antiquaries  and  artists  have  now,  for  some 
time,  convinced  even  the  most  sceptical  that  all  the  Greek  monuments 
were  colored  both  within  and  without  on  a thin  layer  of  plaster  when 
the  stone  was  of  a coarse  texture,  and  directly  on  the  polished  surface 
when  marble  was  used.  This  indisputable  fact  leads  us  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  Greeks  did  not  consider  architecture  as  residing:  in 
form  alone,  but  recognized  that  this  form  should  be  aided,  completed, 
and  modified  by  the  application  of  various  colors.  Indeed,  it  re- 
quires no  very  extensive  experience  to  learn  that  color  may  have  a 


252 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


decided  influence  over  form  and  even  over  proportions  ; thus,  if  we 
color  the  metopes  and  the  wall  of  the  cel  la  of  a Greek  temple  with 
black,  we  shall  obtain  an  entirely  different  effect  from  that  which 
would  be  produced  if  the  metopes  and  wall  were  left  white,  and 
the  cornice,  triglyphs,  architrave,  and  columns  were  painted  black, 
although  the  dimensions  and  proportions  in  either  case  should  remain 
the  same.  (See  Fig.  43.)  By  the  first  method,  indicated  at  A,  the 
order  is  filled  out  and  its  architrave,  triglyphs,  and  cornice  assume 
the  importance  which  belongs  to  them  ; by  the  second,  indicated  at 
B,  the  columns  are  made  to  appear  higher  and  more  meagre,  and 
the  entablature  loses  its  value.  Thus,  a certain  order,  which  seems 
heavy,  may  be  made  to  appear  light  and  airy  ; another,  of  slender 
proportions,  may  be  made  solid  and  firm.  Color,  therefore,  has  a 
decided  influence  on  architectural  effects,  and  we  should  not,  at  this 
day,  undertake  to  form  an  opinion  regarding  the  edifices  of  Greek 
antiquity  without  considering  this  element  of  expression. 

Fig.  43. 


A. 


B 


The  sensibility  of  the  Greeks  was  far  too  delicate  not  to  have  been 
impressed  with  the  architectural  importance  of  a principle  which,  by 
the  mere  application  of  various  colors,  was  capable  of  thus  altering 
the  expression  of  form.  As  for  us,  Ave  are  so  completely  under  the 
dominion  of  rooted  prejudices,  that  Ave  revolt  from  the  practical  appli- 
cation of  such  neAv  elements,  although  most  evidently  resulting  from 
the  observation  of  natural  laws.  In  sculpture  and  in  architecture  Ave 


APPLICATION  OF  COLOR  TO  ARCHITECTURE. 


253 


have  long  been  accustomed  to  recognize  form  alone  as  admissible,  as 
if,  in  fact,  everything  in  relief  should  be  deprived  of  the  assistance  of 
color.  This  sentiment  is  the  result  of  the  introduction  into  architec- 
ture of  certain  new  principles  whose  value  is  not  generally  appre- 
ciated. It  is  one  of  those  innumerable  contradictions  through  which 
the  arts  of  the  present  day  are  blindly  groping.  Some  exclusive 
partisans  of  the  adoption  of  classic  architecture  protest  against  the 
idea  of  aiding  form  with  color,  although  this  expedient  was  always 
admitted  in  that  architecture  ; in  thus  protesting,  they  have  only 
pushed  to  extremes  the  tendencies  of  mediaeval  architects,  who  gave 
to  their  devices  of  construction  an  importance  unknown  before  their 
time.  To  be  clearer,  it  is  as  if  these  partisans  said,  “ We  admit  no 
other  style  of  architecture  than  that  adopted  in  antiquity,  but  we 
protest  against  the  use  of  one  of  the  most  powerful  principles  by 
which  the  ancient  architects  were  accustomed  to  obtain  their  effects  ; 
we  believe  we  should  exclude  the  constructional  methods  in  vogue 
during  the  Middle  Ages,  but  we  maintain  that  the  consequences  of 
these  methods  should  have  a dominating  influence  over  our  archi- 
tecture.” 

The  Asiatics,  the  Egyptians,  and  the  Greeks  in  turn  colored  their 
architecture  ; and  the  Romans,  also,  whether  by  means  of  paintings 
or  by  incrustations  of  various  marbles.  Their  example  was  followed 
by  the  Arabs  and  by  the  Byzantine  and  Romanesque  architects. 
During  the  period  called  Gothic,  architecture  was  still  colored  by 
tradition  ; but  finally  the  practice,  as  applied  to  structure,  was  gradu- 
ally abandoned,  in  order  that  all  the  science  and  complication  which 
distinguished  the  construction  of  that  period  might  be  seen  and  ap- 
preciated. Painting  ceased  to  be  monumental,  and  was  used  only  in 
certain  exceptional  cases. 

In  antiquity,  therefore,  and  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
an  edifice  was  regarded  as  finished  only  when  color  assisted  form. 
But  after  the  thirteenth  century  in  France,  form  had  no  further  need 
of  this  assistance,  as  it  was  the  result  of  a construction  all  of  whose 
effects  were  obtained  from  its  own  combinations.  Geometry  tri- 
umphed over  painting  ; and  painting  became  a luxury,  an  ornament, 
having  no  necessary  connection  with  architecture.  Ever  since  then 
these  two  arts,  architecture  and  painting,  naturally  allied  to  each 
other  by  the  strongest  ties,  have  had  a tendency  to  separate,  till 
now  pictures  are  hung  up  on  blank  walls,  and  neither  painter  nor 


254 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


architect  foresees,  the  one  where  his  picture  is  to  be  suspended, 
and  the  other  what  paintings  are  to  decorate  the  structure  he  hns 
raised. 

The  architect  should  be  enough  of  a painter  and  sculptor  to  appre- 
ciate exactly  how  and  to  what  extent  he  should  avail  himself  of  the 
two  sister  arts  ; and  the  sculptor  aud  painter  should  have  such  a 
feeling  for  architectural  effects  as  never  to  disdain  to  contribute  to- 
wards them.  But  this  is  not  the  case  at  present  ; we  long  since  lost 
that  habit  of  harmony,  without  which  the  highest  art  cannot  exist  ; 
the  architect  builds  his  house,  gives  to  it  such  form  and  style  as  he 
thinks  best,  and  then  it  is  turned  over  to  the  painter,  whose  interest 
and  impulse  it  is  to  make  his  work  as  prominent  as  possible,  and  to 
obtain,  perhaps,  a general  effect  of  which  the  architect  never  dreamed. 
The  sculptor  works  apart  in  his  studio  and  presently  sends  his  bas- 
reliefs  or  statues.  Architect,  painter,  and  sculptor  have,  perhaps,  each 
exhibited  the  most  remarkable  talent,  and  yet  the  general  result  of 
their  labors  thus  combined  is  unsatisfactory  ; the  sculpture  is,  per- 
haps, on  a different  scale  from  the  architecture,  or  presents  an  effect 
of  movement  and  confusion  where  the  general  design  required  repose  ; 
while  the  painting,  applied  without  sympathy  and  as  an  afterthought, 
falsifies,  cancels,  or  overwhelms  the  architectural  lines,  is  sombre 
where  it  should  have  been  bright,  and  brilliant  where  it  should  have 
been  grave  and  quiet.  The  three  arts,  instead  of  aiding  each  other, 
have  thus  a tendency  to  mutual  destruction.  Of  course,  architect, 
sculptor,  and  painter  accuse  each  other  of  the  responsibility  for  the 
incomplete  and  unsatisfactory  result.  We  are  ignorant  of  the  pre- 
cise relations  which  existed  between  architects,  sculptors,  and  paint- 
ers in  antiquity  or  in  the  Middle  Ages  ; but  it  is  evident,  from  the 
monuments,  that  these  relations  were  close,  constant,  and  direct.  I 
do  not  believe  that  the  artists  lost  by  this,  and  it  is  certain  that  art 
gained.  We  can  find  traces  of  this  alliance  between  the  arts  so  late 
as  the  seventeenth  century,  at  least  in  the  interiors  of  palaces  ; its 
latest  results  are  witnessed  in  the  gallery  of  Apollo  at  the  Louvre, 
in  that  of  the  Hotel  Lambert,  and  even  in  the  gallery  of  the  Mar- 
bles at  Versailles.  But  when  architecture  began  to  shut  itself  up 
in  academical  prejudice,  when  the  painter  made  pictures  and  not 
paintings,  and  the  sculptor  made  statues  and  not  sculpture,  this 
precious  alliance  was  broken.  While  detached  works  of  art  are 
thus  crowding  the  museums  and  galleries  of  amateurs,  monumental 


NATURAL  ALLIANCE  OE  THE  FINE  ARTS. 


art  is  losing  its  most  appropriate  adornment  ; it  lias  become  the  vul- 
gar belief  that  cold,  white,  naked  stone  is  alone  suited  to  the  dignity 
of  such  art,  and  men  who  will  not  live  in  a room  which  is  not  hung 
with  variegated  paper,  will  not  permit  the  temple  of  God  or  the  hall 
of  a palace  to  receive  the  slightest  color.  Meanwhile,  as  the  arts 
must  be  encouraged,  pictures  are  ordered  of  painters,  and  these  pic- 
tures are  hung  in  rooms  which  the  painters  have  never  seen,  without 
any  regard  to  architectural  forms  and  dimensions  or  to  the  direction 
of  the  light.  Statues  are  ordered  of  sculptors,  who  execute  them 
without  difficulty,  but  in  ignorance  of  where  they  are  to  be  placed. 
We  never  can  boast  of  being  a truly  artistic  people,  so  long  as  this 
state  of  things  is  permitted  to  exist.  In  all  really  fine  epochs,  sculp- 
ture and  painting  have  been  treated  as  the  decoration  of  architec- 
ture, a decoration  made  for  and  essential  to  the  body  to  which  it 
was  applied.  But,  in  order  to  preserve  the  authority  which  archi- 
tecture acquired  over  the  other  arts,  she  had  to  respect  herself  and 
make  herself  worthy  of  such  a decoration. 

The  monuments  of  antiquity,  which  we  now  behold  ruined,  sacked, 
devastated,  and  often  lost  in  the  midst  of  squalor,  filth,  and  poverty, 
were  formerly  surrounded  by  carefully  adapted  architectural  features, 
and  approached  only  by  skilfully  managed  transitions.  The  temples 
and  palaces  of  Athens  or  Rome  never  were  placed  with  their  bases 
in  the  mud,  like  most  of  our  public  monuments.  Site  and  surround- 
ings were  carefully  chosen.  Thus  the  exterior  color  of  edifices  which 
with  us  would  appear  ridiculous  (as  it  is  ridiculous  to  see  a person 
walking  the  public  streets  clothed  in  a brilliant  costume),  acquired 
great  value  by  the  care  taken  by  the  ancients  to  preserve  them  from 
all  taint  by  means  of  a careful  attention  to  location  and  accessories. 
We  find  this  sentiment  of  respect  for  works  of  art  prominent  among 
Oriental  nations.  We  can  understand  the  propriety  of  covering  a 
pagoda  from  base  to  summit  with  lively  colors,  incrustations,  and 
enamels,  when  we  find  that  its  gate  is  approached  only  after  passing 
through  several  courts,  diminishing  in  size  and  increasing  in  rich- 
ness, paved  curiously  with  marbles  and  adorned  with  shrubs  and 
fountains.  We  can  comprehend  the  richness  of  Egyptian  sanctua- 
ries, when,  to  reach  them,  we  find  that  it  was  necessary  to  pass 
through  pylons,  porticos,  and  vestibules,  whose  luxury  increased  with 
their  proximity  to  the  sacred  place.  We  can  comprehend  the  bril- 


C< 


25G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


liant  painting  of  the  Greek  temple,  when  we  discover  by  how  many 
objects  of  art  it  was  surrounded,  the  sacred  groves,  the  enclosing 
walls,  the  innumerable  accessories  whose  presence  was,  as  it  were,  an 
introduction  to  the  last  and  most  complete  architectural  expression. 

Antiquity  never  lost  sight  of  this  principle  ; and  the  Middle  Ages 
often  endeavored  to  recognize  and  follow  it,  but  with  manifest  inferi- 
ority, above  all  in  France  ; for  in  Italy  the  influence  of  the  pagan 
traditions  was  still  felt,  and  to  this  fact  may  be  attributed  a large 
part  of  the  effect  produced  by  the  architectural  works  of  that  coun- 
try, although,  taken  by  themselves,  they  are  often  inferior  to  those  of 
France.  But,  as  for  us,  we  have  long  seemed  not  to  be  aware  that 
it  is  a part  of  art  to  know  how  to  surround  and  embellish  its  works. 
Although  this  kind  of  negligence,  which  is  a peculiarity  of  our  nation- 
al character,  is,  as  I shall  take  occasion  presently  to  show,  the  result 
of  a beautiful  and  noble  quality,  it  can  be  avoided  without  violence  to 
any  essential  advantage  to  be  derived  from  the  hereditary  principles 
which  it  is  our  duty  to  keep  always  in  view.  To  this  end,  we  must 
acquire  an  exact  knowledge  of  our  aptitudes  and  requirements  ; we 
must  lay  aside  those  prejudices  of  education,  those  incomplete  or 
superannuated  doctrines,  those  vulgarities,  which  tyrannize  over  the 
world,  and  which  we  artists,  either  through  feebleness  or  ignorance, 
have  not  hitherto  had  the  courage  or  the  means  boldly  to  oppose. 

We,  as  well  as  others,  perhaps,  possess  qualifications  which  are 
admirably  adapted  to  the  development  of  the  arts,  and  particularly  of 
architecture  ; vet  we  have  not  only  failed  to  profit  by  these  qualifica- 
tions, but  have  allowed  them  to  be  overwhelmed  in  the  reign  of 
"vulgarity  under  which  we  live,  because  we  have  been  willing  to  ap- 
pear other  than  what  we  are,  and  have  neglected  the  precious  gifts 
which  belong  to  us.  We  build  a monument,  but  we  place  it  badly 
and  surround  it  badly  ; we  do  not  know  how  to  present  it  to  the 
public;  it  may  be  a masterpiece  of  art,  but  we  take  no  measures  to 
preserve  it  from  that  familiarity  and  daily  contact  with  worldly  traffic 
which  breed  contempt  and  defilement.  We  have  not  known  how  to 
respect  our  own  work,  and  therefore  naturally  no  one  respects  it.  The 
worst  edifices  of  the  Middle  Ages  or  of  modern  times,  in  Italy,  were 
always  placed  to  produce  an  effect  ; the  picturesque  played  an  impor- 
tant part.  We  have  replaced  this  quality  by  symmetry,  which  is  con- 
trary to  our  genius,  which  embarrasses  and  fatigues  us  ; it  is  the  last 
resort  of  our  feebleness.  Neither  in  the  Athenian  Acropolis,  nor  in 


IMPORTANCE  OP  SITE  AND  SURROUNDINGS. 


257 


the  Forum  of  Rome  or  Pompeii,  nor  in  the  works  described  by  Pausa- 
nias,  do  we  discover  any  general  symmetrical  dispositions.  Symmetry 
among  the  Greeks  was  applied  only  to  an  isolated  edifice,  though 
even  in  this  respect  exceptions  abound,  but  never  to  a collection  of 
edifices.  Even  the  Romans,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  were  willing  to 
admit  symmetry  into  their  masses,  never  sacrificed  to  it  necessity  or 
common-sense.  Yet  with  what  art  did  the  Greeks  locate  or  group 
their  public  structures  ! With  what  a just  appreciation  for  effect, 
with  what  a fine  feeling  for  that  quality,  so  much  disdained  by  our 
architects,  which  we  call  the  picturesque  ! It  is  disdained,  because 
our  plans  and  elevations,  studied  on  paper,  generally  have  but  slight 
regard  either  for  the  peculiarities  of  site  or  aspect,  the  local  effects  of 
light  and  shade,  the  surroundings,  or  the  differences  of  level,  to 
which  architectural  forms  may  be  so  happily  adapted  ; because,  espe- 
cially, even  before  aiming  to  satisfy  the  practical  requirements  of  the 
programme,  the  architect  is  preoccupied  with  the  idea  of  building  a 
symmetrical  and  balanced  façade,  a great  architectural  case,  in  which 
afterwards  the  different  apartments  are  to  be  arranged  as  well  as 
these  arbitrary  circumstances  will  admit.  It  is  hardly  necessary,  I 
presume,  to  cite  examples  to  prove  that  I do  not  exaggerate  in  this 
statement.  We  need  but  to  look  around  us.  If  we  elevated  these 
great  regular  architectural  boxes  upon  platforms,  terraces,  or  vast 
sub-basements,  as  the  Romans  always  did  in  such  cases,  and  as  was 
done  by  the  French  in  the  seventeenth  century  at  Versailles  and 
St.  Germain,  if  we  had  a care  for  their  surroundings,  and  empha- 
sized all  that  there  is  majestic  in  an  assemblage  of  symmetrical  lines 
by  detaching  them  from  the  masses  of  buildings  in  our  cities,  there 
would  be  some  reason  or  excuse  for  this  symmetry.  But  no  ; these 
great  structures  are  lost  in  the  midst  of  crowded  towns,  their  bases 
are  on  the  street,  their  façades  can  only  be  seen  piecemeal,  and  it  is 
only  by  examining  the  plans  upon  paper  that  we  have  the  pleasure 
of  perceiving  that  the  right  wing  is  of  precisely  the  same  length  and 
width  as  the  left.  The  Romans  and,  above  all,  the  Greeks  never 
admitted  symmetry  save  when  the  results  of  their  observance  of  this 
law  could  be  comprehended  in  a glance  of  the  eye,  that  is  to  say, 
when  the  space  occupied  was  sufficiently  restricted  to  satisfy  the  eye 
by  a disposition  of  balanced  masses,  without  the  necessity  of  an  appeal 
to  reason  to  comprehend  the  disposition.  But,  if  it  is  necessary  to 
walk  a thousand  yards  to  see  that  the  façade  on  the  north  end  (sup- 
17 


258 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


posing  that  the  mind  can  retain  the  image  so  long)  is  similar  to  that 
on  the  south,  if  one  must  go  out  of  one  court  and  enter  another  to 
perceive  (supposing  always  that  the  memory  is  faithful)  that  these 
two  courts  are  identically  alike,  I ask,  why  disregard  common-sense 
and  embarrass  all  the  practical  requirements  of  the  structure  to 
obtain  a result  so  puerile,  a result  which  can  only  satisfy  a few  nar- 
row-minded pedants  ? 

Whence  do  we  derive  this  custom  which  exercises  such  a prevail- 
ing influence  over  all  modern  architectural  composition  ? Certainly 
not  from  mediaeval  traditions,  nor  yet  from  those  of  antiquity,  which 
are  entirely  opposed  to  it  ; but  from  certain  very  recent,  but  very 
unreasonable  academical  formulas,  in  conflict  with  our  national  genius, 
which  is  essentially  rational  and  independent  of  such  artificial  re- 
strictions ; formulas,  according  to  which  we  build  inconvenient  struc- 
tures, which  are  tiresome  to  the  eye  and  satisfy  no  instincts  of  pro- 
priety, but  enable  any  one  to  set  himself  up  as  a judge  in  archi- 
tectural questions,  and  which,  for  this  very  reason,  are  extolled  as 
infallible. 

In  examining  the  ruins  of  Greek  cities,  we  cannot  but  be  struck 
by  the  care  with  which  the  architects  of  that  beautiful  epoch  profited 
by  their  sites  to  give  increased  value  to  their  monuments.  They 
loved  architecture  as  an  art,  but  they  also  loved  nature  and  light  ; 
they  endeavored  to  attract  attention  to  their  designs  and  to  surprise 
by  coy  and  unexpected  devices,  avoiding  monotony  and  prudish 
formalism.  They  were  scientific  constructors  and  severe  artists,  full 
of  respect  for  principles  and  form,  but  they  were  also  subtle  decora- 
tors and  exquisitely  delicate  in  their  choice  and  arrangement  of 
effects.  The  Greek  architect  never  levelled  the  rock  on  which  his 
monument  was  founded  ; lie  decorated  it,  he  profited  by  its  asper- 
ities, he  cut  it  with  taste  and  with  profound  knowledge  of  effect. 
Look  at  Athens,  Corinth,  and,  above  all,  at  those  antique  Greek 
cities  of  Sicily,  Agrigentum,  Selinus,  Segeste,  Syracuse.  ho  would 
not  say,  on  beholding  these  venerable  ruins,  “ Happy  the  lives  of 
those  who  so  understood  and  so  exquisitely  enjoyed  the  beautiful 
alliance  of  art  and  nature  ! ” 

With  the  Roman  it  was  otherwise.  He  readily  sacrificed  nature 
to  his  ideas  of  order  and  grandeur.  In  order  to  illustrate  the  differ- 
ence between  these  two  principles,  we  here  present,  in  Fig.  44,  a 
view  of  the  temple  of  Juno  Lucina  at  Agrigentum,  restored,  and,  in 


Fig.  44. 


DANGERS  OE  HASTE. 


259 


Fig.  45,  a bird’s-eye  view  of  a Roman  temple  of  the  Imperial  epoch, 
with  its  porticos,  its  enclosing  wall  or  cloister,  its  approaches,  and  its 
large  and  sumptuous  architecture.*  In  modern  times  we  cheapen 
the  sites  of  our  monuments,  or,  if  we  undertake  to  isolate  them,  we 
surround  them  with  blank  deserts  which  belittle  them,  affording 
no  introduction  and  no  architectural  preparation  or  contrasts  ; we 
think  we  have  answered  the  last  requirements  of  good  taste  if  we 
surround  our  monument  with  an  iron  fence  upon  a low  wall. 

I have  said  that  this  peculiar  negligence  of  ours  about  the  manner 
in  which  our  works  should  be  completed  and  presented  to  the  public 
proceeds  from  a noble  quality  in  our  national  character.  The  fact  is, 
that,  in  our  pursuit  of  improvement,  we  are  constantly  experimenting 
and  investigating,  but' we  never  pause  to  develop  the  advantages  we 
have  gained  into  the  perfection  of  which  they  may  be  capable;  and 
thus,  in  our  eager  and  impatient  haste,  the  full  enjoyment  of  our 
artistic  capacities  is  every  day  adjourned  to  the  morrow  ; this  en- 
joyment will  come  some  day,  we  think,  but  it  certainly  does  not 
exist  at  present.  The  true  history  of  our  arts,  as  of  our  civiliza- 
tion, is  embraced  in  these  few  words,  and  it  is  in  this  respect  that 
we  exhibit  another  marked  point  of  contrast  with  the  Romans,  the 
most  practical  people  of  historic  times.  It  leads  us  into  the  stran- 
gest blunders.  Thus,  we  enunciate  a principle,  which  suggests  an- 
other principle,  and  so  we  proceed  in  an  interminable  succession  of 
experiments,  abandoning  each  in  turn  before  its  capacities  are  devel- 
oped, and  rushing  on  to  others,  leaving  behind  us  all  the  while  a 
sad  record  of  unfinished  work  and  broken  promises  ; but,  meanwhile, 
some  people,  more  calm  or  more  attached  to  the  interests  of  the  mo- 
ment, take  up  one  of  the  principles  which  we  have  thus  abandoned, 
and,  by  serious  study  and  quiet  processes  of  induction,  develop  and 
perfect  it;  and  when  one  day,  wearied  with  our  unprofitable  search 
after  improvement  and  at  the  end  of  our  resources,  we  meet  these 

* Of  the  temple  of  Juno  Lucina  at  Agrigentum,  the  great  platform,  which  was  built  upon 
the  rock,  towards  the  east,  still  remains,  hut  the  temple  itself  is  an  utter  ruin.  Our  view  is 
taken  from  the  side  towards  the  city,  the  temple  being  built  upon  a long  ridge  of  calcareous 
stone  which  served  as  ramparts,  and  which,  on  the  inner  side,  was  covered  with  monuments  cut 
in  the  living  rock.  Any  one  visiting  these  ruins,  now  far  removed  in  a wilderness,  can  see  that 
the  Greek  architects  were  skilful  landscape  gardeners,  and  knew  how  to  exercise  their  qualifications 
as  such  without  injury  to  their  art.  The  Roman  temple,  which  is  a fair  type  of  the  sacred  edifices 
of  the  Imperial  epoch,  is  taken  from  a medal  dedicated  to  Jupiter  the  Avenger  by  the  Emperor 
Alexander  Severus.  On  the  reverse  appears  this  inscription  : IOVRVLTORI  • P • M • TR  • 1’  • I l I . 

1 OS  . P . P.  (Imperial  Library,  cabinet  of  medals.)  See  “ Architecture,  numismatiea,”  or  Arch. 
Medals  of  Clas.  Antiquity,  by  T.  L.  Donaldson,  London,  1859. 


200 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


foreign  developments  of  onr  own  principles,  we  are  delighted,  and,  in 
the  characteristic  ardor  of  our  pursuit  of  novelties,  at  once  set  our- 
selves to  the  same  headlong  work  of  imitation,  adaptation,  and  aban- 
donment. It  will  readily  be  seen  how  these  strange  revolutions 
confuse  our  ideas,  so  that,  in  the  midst  of  so  many  different  elements, 
we  are  at  a loss  to  distinguish  the  true  from  the  false,  or  inspiration 
from  imitation.  This  is  the  reason  why  we  experience  so  much  diffi- 
culty in  knowing  what  our  real  aims  and  true  requirements  are  in 
respect  to  art.  The  Greeks  present  a similar  activity  of  genius,  but 
their  constant  and  devoted  love  for  purity  and  truth  of  form  saved 
them  from  the  errors  into  which  we  have  fallen  ; like  us,  they  were 
progressive  and  were  sensitive  to  new  suggestions,  but,  by  reason 
of  their  instinct  for  the  beautiful,  they  transformed  everything  they 
touched  into  a joy  forever,  and  thus  they  remained  the  masters  of 
their  conquerors. 

Let  us  now  follow  step  by  step  the  progress  of  the  arts  in  Western 
Europe  from  the  Carlovingian  epoch  up  to  modern  times. 

It  is  not  easy  to  find,  either  in  Italy  or  France,  any  remains  of 
monuments  of  the  eighth  and  ninth  centuries,  and  those  which  we 
do  discover  exhibit  an  imperfect  art  which  is  a sort  of  compromise 
between  Roman  traditions  and  Oriental  influences.  Then,  in  the 
tenth  century  came  the  Norman  invasions  of  the  AVest,  arresting  the 
progress  of  the  new  civilization  in  its  earliest  stages.  It  is  not  till 
the  eleventh  century  that,  under  the  influence  of  monastic  establish- 
ments, especially  those  of  Cluny,  we  can  discover  any  development 
of  art  towards  a new  path.*  These  monks  began  by  establishing 
themselves,  as  far  as  possible,  on  the  foundations  of  the  old  Roman 
occupation.  The  Roman  villa  had  no  small  influence  on  the  plans 
of  their  monasteries,  in  which,  as  in  their  antique  prototype,  symme- 
try was  sacrificed  to  convenience,  situation,  and  aspect,  thus  present- 
ing a similar  agglomeration  of  buildings,  thoughtfully  and  judiciously 
disposed  and  varying  according  to  the  destination  of  each,  as  we  have 
had  occasion  to  observe  in  the  villas  of  the  empire.  Although  the 
taste  thus  exhibited  by  the  western  monks  more  closely  resembled 
the  Latin  taste  than  any  other,  yet,  in  the  eleventh  century,  new 
elements  began  to  appear  in  their  art.  It  is  at  this  moment  of  its 

* See  in  the  “ Diet,  raisonné  de  l’Arch.  Franc,  du  Xe  au  XVI0  siècles  ” the  articles  Archi- 
tecture ; Architecture  Religieuse,  Monastique  ; Construction. 


ITig,  45 


EARLY  CLIENT LSI  AN  ARCHITECTURE. 


261 


development  that  the  history  of  architecture  requires  to  he  analyzed 
with  the  utmost  care,  for  from  these  first  essays  we  are  to  derive  what 
it  is  most  important  for  us  to  know  in  our  labors  for  the  renovation 
of  modern  architecture. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  recount  the  supreme  influence  of  the  abbey 
of  Cluny,  during  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries,  that  is,  under  the 
ride  of  the  abbots  Saint  Odo,  Aymard,  Saint  Maïeul,  Saint  Odilon, 
Saint  Hugh,  or  the  privileges  which  this  abbey  enjoyed  independent 
of  all  secular  or  episcopal  power  and  subject  only  to  the  will  of 
the  Pope  ; it  is  unnecessary  here  to  give  the  history  of  the  numerous 
missions  undertaken  by  the  Clunisian  monks  in  all  the  countries  of 
Europe,  the  reforms  of  which  they  were  the  devoted  apostles  through- 
out Christendom,  or  the  great  works  which  they  undertook.  Suffice 
it  to  say  that  it  was  a true  government,  the  only  one  which  pursued 
regular  and  logical  methods  in  that  era  of  public  misery,  when  all 
other  powers  were  feeble  and  undeveloped.  Now  the  Order  of  Cluny, 
being  thus  master  in  the  domain  of  intellect,  and  being  the  only  in- 
stitution which  had  constant  intercourse  with  Italy,  Spain,  and  Ger- 
many, imposing  its  rule  everywhere,  had  need  of  an  art  which  should 
be  equal  to  the  emergencies  and  dignity  of  its  mission.  We  must 
remember,  moreover,  that  all  the  distinguished  minds  of  that  time, 
all  those  who  desired  to  elevate  humanity  above  the  prevailing  bar- 
barism, took  refuge  in  .the  monasteries  of  Cluny,  and  gave  to  that  vast 
religious  and  civilizing  association  the  weight  of  their  intelligence. 
Cluny,  therefore,  by  reason  of  its  continual  relations  with  establish- 
ments spread  over  Italy,  Germany,  and  even  in  the  East,  became  a 
sort  of  reservoir,  in  which  the  different  sources  of  art,  gathered  to- 
gether from  every  quarter,  were  mingled  to  furnish  a new  current. 
It  was  in  this  way  that  the  traditions  of  Roman  art  were  transformed 
into  a powerful  school.  The  churches  of  Cluny,  Tournus,  Vézelay, 
St.  Martin-des-Champs  at  Paris,  la  Charite-snr-Loire,  preserve  re- 
markable specimens  of  that  Clunisian  art,  which  was  the  only  one  in 
the  eleventh  century  deserving  the  name  of  architecture.  The  Clu- 
nisian masons,  stone-cutters,  sculptors,  and  painters  possessed  methods 
belonging  to  a school  the  grandeur  of  whose  efforts  cannot  be  misun- 
derstood,— a school  which,  while  it  was  the  issue  of  Latin  arts,  bore 
the  imprint  of  its  own  peculiar  genius. 

In  all  the  writings,  instructions,  and  rules  which  emanated  from 
Cluny,  there  is  a consistency,  a clear  and  practical  spirit,  which  can- 


202 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


not  fail  to  strike  every  attentive  reader  ; we  recognize  in  them  the 
hands  of  lettered  men,  habituated  to  a wise  and  discreet  exercise  of 
power,  to  administration,  and  to  all  the  difficulties  which  belong  to 
human  government  ; men  sure  of  their  intellectual  superiority,  and 
having  the  patience  and  moderation  of  strength.  In  the  eleventh 
century,  the  Clunisians  seemed  to  be  justified  in  considering  in  good 
faith  that  the  government  of  all  human  affairs  belonged  necessarily 
and  by  right  to  them.  This  explains  in  part  the  struggles  of  Greg- 
ory VII.  against  imperial  power.  The  monk  Hildebrand,  when  he 
became  Pope,  still  remained  the  friend  of  the  abbot  Hugh,  who  was 
not  less  attached  to  the  emperor  Henry,  and  often  interposed  between 
these  two  illustrious  rivals.  This  single  fact  indicates  the  politic 
spirit  of  the  great  abbots  of  Cluny  in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  cen- 
turies. This  real  and  incontestible  power,  this  taste  for  intellectual 
labor,  this  moderation,  this  habit  of  grandeur,  we  find  expressed  in 
the  Clunisian  monuments  of  that  epoch.  There  is  order  in  them,  but 
not  the  strict  order  of  the  monk  ; rather  somewhat  that  of  the  Ro- 
man ; but  we  may  say,  in  favor  of  the  Clunisians,  that  they  knew 
how  to  form  schools  both  of  construction  and  sculpture,  while  the 
Romans  invented  only  the  construction  of  their  edifices,  taking  all 
their  decoration  from  the  Greeks.  It  is  true  that  the  Clunisians  took 
from  Byzantium,  and  from  among  the  Greek  refugee  artists  in  Italy, 
painters  and  sculptors  to  adorn  their  buildings  ; but  who  was  there  in 
Italy,  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century,  to  conceive  a monument  like 
the  church  of  Vézelay  ? Whence  could  profiles  so  noble  and  of  a 
style  so  pure  have  been  imported  ? In  what  European  country,  at  that 
period,  can  we  find  a composition  analogous,  for  instance,  to  that  bay 
of  the  nave  of  Vézelay  of  which  Plate  XI.  can  give  but  a feeble  idea? 
This  is  architecture  deduced  from  the  necessities  of  execution  and 
construction  and  not  made  to  satisfy  the  eye  with  a geometrical  de- 
sign. This  is  an  original  style  whose  composition  has  nothing  in 
common  with  the  examples  left  by  antiquity.  Already,  in  these  Clu- 
nisian buildings  (especially  during  the  period  called  Romanesque), 
we  see  the  spirit  of  the  architect  abandoning  decrepid  traditions  in 
its  search  for  new  forms  ; these  forms,  together  with  their  decoration, 
we  perceive  resulting  rationally  and  directly  from  new  requirements 
of  construction  ; and  the  construction,  in  becoming  conspicuous,  we 
find  becoming  also  elegant  and  even  refined.  The  Clunisian  archi- 
tecture was  an  evident  consequence  of  the  Christian  spirit,  just  as  the 


l'i.xn! 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ST.  EUTROPIUS  AT  SAINTES. 


AISLE  ; EXTERIOR. 


r 


CLUNISIANS  AND  CISTERCIANS. 


203 


institute  of  Cluny  itself  was,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  the  most  natu- 
ral result  of  that  most  practical  epoch  of  Christianity.  Thus  it  was 
agreeable  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity  in  matters  of  architectural 
design  to  throw  aside  all  concealment  and  deceit,  and  to  regard  form 
only  as  a logical  expression  of  necessity  ; it  was  Christian  to  treat 
every  part  according  to  the  value  of  the  idea  which  called  it  into 
existence.  According  to  the  Clunisian  architects,  therefore,  every 
part  must  have  a necessary  function,  must  perform  a duty,  could  only 
arrive  at  perfection  by  adhering  to  these  laws  and  by  admitting  no 
caprice  ; men  of  taste,  though  scarcely  yet  free  from  the  elements  of 
barbarism,  they  were  the  first  to  make  these  principles  fundamental 
in  the  practice  of  art. 

The  Clunisians  very  nearly  created  a Renaissance  in  the  Middle 
Ages  ; they  revived  the  love  of  letters,  and,  for  the  time  in  which 
they  flourished,  had  very  advanced  ideas  concerning  administration 
and  government  ; they  were  legislators,  diplomatists,  politicians,  men 
of  science,  and  artists.  If  they  did  not  create  a Renaissance,  it  was 
because  they  formed  a clerical  aristocracy  in  the  midst  of  the  people. 
But  could  they  have  been  anything  else  in  the  state  of  society  at  that 
epoch  ? 

It  is  one  of  the  most  curious  facts  to  be  developed  in  the  history 
of  the  human  mind  since  antiquity,  that  perhaps  we  owe  to  the  Clu- 
nisians the  great  national  movement  which  caused  their  disappear- 
ance from  the  scene  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century.  It  was  a 
natural  result  of  their  influence  over  the  affairs  of  the  world,  of  their 
cultivation,  of  their  love  for  arts  and  letters,  and  of  their  intimate 
relations  with  all  sovereigns,  that  the  Clunisians  at  length  began  to 
display  in  their  monasteries  a luxury  until  then  unknown.  It  was 
in  opposition  to  this  luxury  that  Saint  Bernard  arose  in  the  twelfth 
century  ; he  saw  that  the  monastic  institution  was  going  astray,  and 
he  proposed  to  arrest  the  evil.  In  this  connection  it  is  very  interest- 
ing to  read  the  letters  of  the  Abbot  of  Cluny,  Peter  the  Venerable,  to 
St.  Bernard,  conjuring  him  to  be  moderate  in  his  attacks,  and  to 
make  no  invidious  distinctions  between  the  white  and  black  monks 
in  the  households  of  the  order.  Peter,  in  contrast  to  Bernard,  occu- 
pied the  position  of  an  enlightened  and  tolerant  man  of  the  world, 
who  perceived,  in  the  reaction  excited  by  Bernard,  only  one  danger 
more  for  the  monastic  orders  in  general  ; he  appealed  to  his  charity. 
“ Differences  of  color,  ’ said  he,  in  one  of  his  letters,  “ differences  of 


264 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


habitations  and  of  costume,  are  opposed  to  mutual  love,  and  weaken 
the  unity  of  our  order.  The  white  monk  is  jealous  of  the  black 
monk,  and  regards  him  as  a monster.  The  black  monk  beholds  the 
white  monk,  and  considers  him  a hideous  prodigy.  Novelties  irritate 
the  mind  which  is  rooted  in  regular  habits,  and  it  is  difficult  to 
approve  that  which  is  strange.  These  are  the  natural  sentiments 
of  those  who  attach  .themselves  to  exterior  things,  without  regarding 
what  passes  in  the  bottom  of  souls.  But  the  eye  of  reason,  the  eye 
of  the  mind,  does  not  see  in  this  way  ; it  recognizes  and  comprehends 
that  diversity  of  colors,  usages,  and  habitations  is  as  nothing  among 
the  servants  of  God,  since,  according  to  the  Apostle,  We  are  no 
longer  concerned  with  the  circumcision , hut  with  the  renewing  of  the 
creature , and  there  is  no  longer  Jew  or  Greek,  male  or  female,  barba- 
rian or  Scythian,  slave  or  freeman,  and  Christ  is  all  in  all.  Intelli- 
gent men  understand  such  things  and  comprehend  them  clearly  ; but 
all  are  not  so  ; the  intellectual  sight  is  given  to  but  few.  It  is,  in 
my  opinion,  necessary  to  place  our  inferiors  on  a level,  and  to  con- 
duct ourselves  towards  them  with  a sort  of  distributive  precaution, 
like  him  who  said,  I have  made  myself  all  things  to  all  men,  that 
I might  gain  all.” 

But  I pause,  though  tempted  to  cite  the  whole  of  a letter  which 
is  a masterpiece  of  the  true  Christian  spirit,  of  good  sense,  good  taste, 
and  sometimes  of  delicate  irony.  Peter  the  Venerable  and  Suger 
shared  between  them  the  intelligence  of  the  twelfth  century.  The 
fiery  St.  Bernard  foresaw  the  influence  of  letters  and  arts  upon  the 
popular  mind  ; he  dreaded  a return  to  the  arts  of  Paganism,  and 
believed  that  form  was  affecting  dogma,  and  that  philosophy  was 
having  an  influence  over  faith.  Although  a man  of  genius  and  a 
profound  student  of  humanity,  he  misunderstood  the  spirit  of  his 
contemporaries.  He  could  hardly  during  his  life  stay  the  course 
of  the  torrent.  Peter  the  Venerable  was  almost  an  antique  philos- 
opher ; there  was  something  of  Cicero  in  his  spirit,  but  with  the 
grandeur,  resignation,  and  repose  of  the  true  Christian.  Suger  was 
a statesman,  who,  although  he  did  not  participate  in  these  monastic 
disputes,  yet  saw  the  danger  and  believed  it  more  prudent  to  turn 
it  aside  than  to  fight  it  face  to  face  like  St.  Bernard.  This  digres- 
sion is  necessary  to  a full  comprehension  of  what  follows. 

The  Clunisians  had  schools  in  their  establishments,  not  only  for 
the  monks  themselves,  but  open  for  the  laity.  If  they  had  architects, 


TRANSITION  FROM  ROMANESQUE  TO  GOTHIC. 


265 


sculptors,  and  painters  in  their  own  body,  they  did  not  hesitate 
to  spread  abroad  the  knowledge  of  these  arts  ; for,  in  order  to  build 
and  decorate  their  churches  and  sumptuous  cloisters,  they  had  to 
make  extensive  use  of  lay  workmen,  and  the  Clunisians  of  the  twelfth 
century  were  far  too  aristocratic  to  labor  with  their  own  hands.  The 
more  the  Cistercians,  under  the  lead  of  St.  Bernard,  affected  to 
despise  the  plastic  arts,  the  more  refinement  did  the  Clunisians  put 
into  their  constructions,  their  furniture  and  vestments  ; the  dispute 
grew  warm,  and  the  Clunisians,  like  all  men  who  arrive  at  a high 
degree  of  civilization  in  the  midst  of  a rude  state  of  society,  saw  in 
their  rivals  the  merest  barbarians,  and  fought  against  their  extreme 
Puritanism  by  filling  the  popular  mind  with  the  love  of  art  as  far  as 
it  was  practicable.  Their  architecture,  at  about  the  middle  of  the 
twelfth  century,  was  the  expression  of  a singular  refinement  ; but  in 
thus  elevating  laymen  to  the  rank  of  artists  and  skilful  workmen,  and 
inspiring  them  with  the  taste  and  practice  of  the  arts,  they  developed 
among  them  those  native  inspirations  which  until  then  had  remained 
dormant  in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  Thus,  in  the  Clunisian  con- 
structions, from  1120  to  1140,  we  see  indications  of  a new  principle: 
the  Romanesque  tradition  began  to  lose  its  dominating  influence,  and 
many  of  the  problems  which  arose  in  building  were  resolved  by  a 
course  of  inductive  reasoning  rather  than  by  referring  to  antique 
precedent.  Now  it  has  always  happened  in  France  that  whenever 
old  traditions  have  been  laid  aside  for  the  sake  of  a new  idea,  the 
new  idea  has  been  adopted  with  energy,  and  developed  with  all  the 
haste  of  enthusiasm  ; we  have  a proof  of  this  within  a century,  and 
the  French  were  the  same  people  in  the  twelfth  century  as  in  the 
sixteenth  and  eighteenth.  The  abbots  of  Vézelay,  about  the  year 
1135,  built  an  entrance  hall  ( narthex ) to  their  church;  this  hall, 
though  Romanesque  in  plan,  details,  mouldings,  and  sculpture,  ex- 
hibited indications  of  certain  new  principles  of  construction,  which 
gave  promise  of  an  entirely  independent  style.*  It  was  very  nearly 
at  the  same  epoch  that  the  cathedral  of  Langres  was  built,  and  here 
the  Romanesque  methods  were  entirely  abandoned  in  the  system  of 
construction,  although  the  details  were  almost  Roman  in  character. 
In  1114  the  Abbot  Suger  finished  the  abbey  church  of  St.  Denis; 
but,  in  those  parts  of  the  church  which  belong  to  the  epoch  of  which 

*■  See,  in  the,  “Diet,  raisonné  de  l’Arch.  franç.,”  articles  Architecture  Religieuse,  Fig. 
22,  and  Construction,  Fig.  19. 


26G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


we  are  treating,  we  discover  that  the  architectural  revolution  was  com- 
pleted ; not  only  was  the  round  arch  abandoned,  but  the  system  of 
construction  called  Gothic  was  found.  But  where  did  Suger  find  his 
architect?  Was  he  a monk,  or  a layman?  The  monk  William* 
confined  himself  to  saying  that  the  illustrious  abbot  “ summoned 
from  various  parts  of  the  kingdom  workmen  of  every  kind,  masons, 
carpenters,  painters,  blacksmiths,  workers  in  metal,  jewellers,  and 
lapidaries,  all  renowned  for  skill  in  their  respective  crafts.”  But  no- 
where, either  in  the  kingdom  of  France  or  elsewhere,  had  anything 
been  built  like  the  church  of  St.  Denis  ; and  it  is  necessary  to  ob- 
serve also  that  Suger  caused  the  works  to  be  pushed  on  with  the 
utmost  rapidity,  as  he  affected  to  fear  that  his  successor  would  not 
continue  his  enterprise.  On  the  5th  of  June,  1140,  King  Louis  le 
Gros  laid  the  first  stone  of  the  foundation, f and  on  the  11th  of  June, 
1144,  the  church  being  finished,  he  assisted  at  the  dedication.  It 
had  the  same  length  as  the  present  church,  but  not  its  width.  This 
haste  explains  why  the  construction  was  so  negligent,  why  the  foun- 
dations were  afterwards  found  insufficient  in  many  parts,  and  why 
the  nave  and  transept  had  to  be  reconstructed  a hundred  years  after  ; 
but  it  also  indicates  to  us  the  idea  of  arriving  promptly  at  an  extraor- 
dinary result,  and  astonishing  the  multitude  by  striking  a great  blow, 
and  this  end  was  attained  ; for  all  the  contemporaries,  including  even 
the  Abbot  of  Cluny,  Peter  the  Venerable,  beheld,  in  the  work  under- 
taken and  completed  by  Suger,  one  of  the  marvels  of  the  West. 
But  why  this  haste? 

Suger  was  a practical  man  ; he  did  not  fail  to  see  that  the  mo- 
nastic institution  was  declining  to  its  fall  ; and,  while  introducing  into 
his  own  abbey  of  St.  Denis,  in  1127,  a severe  reform,  and  although 
contenting  himself  with  a poor  cell,  in  consequence  of  a letter  of  St. 
Bernard,  in  which  the  Abbot  of  Citeaux  inveighed  against  the  dis- 
order of  the  monks  of  St.  Denis, \ he  felt  the  necessity  of  restoring 
the  glory  of  the  royal  abbey  by  a great  enterprise,  which,  while  it 
should  surpass,  without  imitating,  anything  that  the  Clunisians  had 

* “ Vie  de  Suger,”  Liv.  II. 

d “ Ipse  enim  serenissimus  Rex  intus  descendens  propriis  manibus  suum  imposait,  hosque  et 
multi  alii  tam  abbates  quam  religiosi  viri  lapides  suos  imposuerunt,  quidam  etiam  gemmas,  ob 
amorem  et  reverentiam  Jhesu  Cliristi  decantâtes  : Lapides  pretiori  ovines  mûri  tui.  Letter  of 
Suger. 

+ In  this  letter  (78tli  of  the  edition  of  Mabillon)  St.  Bernard  said,  “that  the  interior  of  the 
monastery  was  filled  with  men-at-arms  and  women,  was  occupied  with  worldly  affairs  of  every 
kind,  and  disturbed  by  frequent  strifes.” 


RISE  OP  THE  LAY  OR  GOTHIC  SPIRIT. 


267 


done,  should  disregard  the  scorn  affected  by  the  Cistercians  for 
matters  of  art;  on  the  contrary,  he  considered  that  the  religious 
orders  should  be  in  the  very  front  of  progress,  should  be  the  fountain 
of  new  ideas,  and  should  seduce  the  multitude  with  all  the  fascina- 
tions of  novelty. 

This  is  why  the  arts  which  were  developed  in  France  in  the 
twelfth  century  differed  in  every  respect  from  those  of  antiquity. 
The  arts  sympathized  with  that  restless  fever  which  flushed  the  soci- 
ety of  the  West,  while  in  antique  Rome  the  arts  remained  insen- 
sible to  every  political  revolution  or  intellectual  movement  ; they 
pursued  their  own  course  and  kept  apart  from  public  affairs.  The 
twelfth  century  in  France  was  signalized  by  popular  revolts,  and 
feudalism  received  then  its  first  blow  at  the  hands  of  this  very 
Abbot  Soger  ; the  royal  power  began  to  recover  from  the  apathy 
into  which  it  had  fallen  ; the  great  reform  of  Cluny  emitted  its 
last  rays  of  enlightenment  ; and  the  clerical  power  of  the  orders 
fast  wasted  away  and  stood  like  a stumbling-block  in  the  path  of 
political  unity.  Suger,  in  the  midst  of  these  things,  distinguished 
himself  by  a course  of  political  conduct  always  wise  and  prudent  ; 
far-sighted  and  exactly  appreciating  the  men  and  the  events  among 
which  he  lived,  he  was  at  the  same  time  moderate  and  tolerant; 
it  was  during  the  government  of  this  statesman  that  architecture 
in  the  heart  ot  the  kingdom  of  France  was  completely  revolution- 
ized, and  definitely  abandoned  the  old  Romanesque  traditions  of 
the  monasteries  to  throw  itself  with  renewed  ardor  into  an  entirely 
different  path  of  progress.  It  was  under  his  administration,  about 
the  year  1150,  that  the  Bishop  Baldwin  IF,  the  friend  of  the  Abbot 
of  St.  Denis,  built  the  cathedral  of  Noyon,  — a work  which  presents 
the  most  striking  analogies  to  those  parts  of  the  royal  abbey  church 
which  still  remain.  It  was  also  at  about  this  epoch  that  the  cathe- 
dral of  Senlis  was  built,  and  it  was  in  1160  that  Bishop  Maurice  de 
Sully  began  the  cathedral  of  Fails  on  a plan  and  programme  until 
then  unknown. 

After  the  Roman  epoch,  the  cities  of  Gaul  in  the  central  and 
northern  provinces  lost,  with  their  municipal  institutions,  the  build- 
ings which  were  the  visible  signs  of  those  institutions  ; so  that 
when,  in  the  eleventh  century,  some  of  these  municipalities  con- 
spired to  conquer  anew  their  ancient  privileges,  they  were  obliged 
to  hold  their  meetings  in  the  public  squares  ; for  in  those  unhappy 


2G8 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


times,  with  the  exception  of  the  churches  and  castles,  there  were 
no  edifices  which  were  capable  of  containing  a popular  assem- 
blage. Of  all  the  powers  against  which  the  commons  struggled, 
the  abbeys  were  necessarily  the  most  constantly  hostile  to  the  move- 
ment; while  the  lay  nobles,  the  bishops,  and  the  sovereign  became 
now  the  protectors  and  now  the  adversaries  of  the  new  liberties, 
according  to  the  interests  of  the  moment. 

In  the  twelfth  century,  the  bishops  found  their  authority  singu- 
larly enfeebled  by  monastic  establishments,  which  owed  allegiance 
only  to  the  Holy  See,  which  were  independent  of  all  diocesan  dis- 
cipline, which  absorbed  the  donations  of  the  faithful,  covered  the 
soil  with  conventual  and  parish  churches,  and  continually  strength- 
ened their  temporal  and  political  influence  in  the  château  of  the 
noble  and  in  the  manor-house  of  the  land-holder.  There  remained 
but  one  resource  for  the  bishops  ; this  was  to  avail  themselves  of 
the  popular  movement,  to  profit  by  the  lay  spirit  just  beginning 
to  develop,  in  order  that,  at.  least  in  the  cities,  they  might  recover 
the  diocesan  power  which  they  had  lost.  In  11  GO,  then,  they 
began  to  use  every  effort  to  supply  those  cities  which  were  affected 
with  this  municipal  spirit  with  vast  buildings,  in  which  the  citizens 
might  assemble  around  the  episcopal  throne.  Their  concessions  to 
the  popular  spirit  were  necessarily  large  ; adopting  programmes 
opposed  to  those  of  the  abbeys,  they  made  their  cathedrals  vast 
open  structures,  unembarrassed  by  interior  enclosures,  possessing 
only  one  altar,  the  bishop’s  throne,  and  few  or  no  chapels  ; in 
short,  they  built  monuments  very  nearly  fulfilling  the  conditions 
of  the  Roman  basilica.*  Under  these  circumstances,  the  people 
readily  responded  to  the  appeal  of  the  bishops;  wealth  flowed 
into  the  episcopal  treasuries  in  abundance,  and  in  a few  years  the 
cities  of  Paris,  Sens,  Chartres,  Rouen,  Bourges,  Rheims,  Senlis, 
Meaux,  Amiens,  Cambrai,  Arras,  Beauvais,  and  Troyes  had  their 
great  cathedrals,  which  still  exist,  though  very  much  modified  from 
their  primitive  dispositions.  The  laity  alone,  who  were  already 
organized  into  trade-corporations  or  guilds,  were  called  upon  to 
prepare  and  execute  these  great  works  ; entering  readily  and  fully 
into  the  views  of  the  bishops,  they  not  only  followed  the  new  pro- 
grammes which  were  given  them,  but  very  soon  adopted  an  entirely 
new  system  of  construction  and  new  forms  of  architecture  and 

* See,  in  the  “Diet,  raisonné  de  l’Areh.  franç.,”  the  article  Cathedral. 


RISE  OF  THE  LAY  OR  GOTHIC  SPIRIT. 


269 


sculpture.  They  rapidly  perfected  themselves  in  the  study  of  geom- 
etry and  mathematics,  and  undertook  to  copy  nature  in  their  statu- 
ary and  decoration. 

In  this  new  development  of  art,  the  peculiar  genius  of  the  Trench 
nation  began  to  appear,  — a genius  which  is  as  distinct  from  that  of 
antiquity  as  it  is  from  that  of  Italy  and  Germany  in  modern  times. 
Up  to  the  moment  when  the  lay  school  appeared  in  Trance,  archi- 
tecture bore  traces  of  Roman  and  Byzantine  arts.  Construction, 
strictly  speaking,  -and  decoration  still  proceeded  from  antiquity  ; 
the  influence  of  western  taste  was  not  yet  sufficiently  energetic 
to  cancel  the  effects  of  living  traditions  ; the  religious  establish- 
ments progressed  in  art  by  modifying  these  traditions,  never  by 
losing  sight  of  them.  But  the  lay  school,  at  the  close  of  the  twelfth 
century,  broke  from  them  entirely  and  replaced  them  by  principles 
founded  upon  reason.  These  new  principles  may  be  briefly  enumer- 
ated as  follows  : Equilibrium  obtained  in  the  system  of  construction 
by  active  resistances  opposed  to  active  forces  ; architectural  effect, 
the  simple  result  of  the  structure  and  the  practical  necessities  of 
the  work  ; decoration,  derived  simply  from  the  local  flora  ; statuary, 
tending  to  the  imitation  of  nature  and  seeking  dramatic  expression. 
W e must  thoroughly  understand  these  principles  before  we  can  com- 
prehend anything  in  the  architecture  of  the  Trench  lay,  or  Gothic, 
school. 

To  this  end,  therefore,  let  us  observe,  in  Tig.  46,  the  transverse 
section  and  a fragment  of  the  plan  of  a great  Roman  room, — the 
basilica  of  Constantine,  for  example.  This  room  is  entirely  con- 
structed of  rubble,  with  brick  facings,  covered  with  stucco,  except 
the  columns  and  their  entablatures,  which  are  of  marble,  but  which, 
in  fact,  are  mere  decorative  features,  as  the  monument  can  stand 
without  their  assistance.  The  roof  of  the  central  nave  A (see  plan) 
is  composed  of  a series  of  cross-vaultings,  constructed  in  the  usual 
Roman  manner,  that  is  to  say,  by  means  of  the  penetration  of  half- 
cylinders at  right  angles.  These  vaults  are  of  rubble,  forming  thus 
a concrete,  passive  mass  without  elasticity,  like  an  immense  shell  hol- 
lowed out  of  a single  block.  Now,  these  vaults  must  be  sustained 
and  buttressed,  for  their  enormous  weight,  if  not  supported  by 
immovable  masses,  would  soon  occasion  fissures,  and  the  vault  thus 
broken  would  fall  in  pieces.  The  buttresses  B,  therefore,  are  built 
opposite  the  thrusts  of  the  vault  at  the  point  where  the  cross-spring- 


270 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


ers  start  ; these  buttress  walls  are  pierced  at  their  base  with  an  arch 
C,  and  are  built  to  the  height  D (see  section)  ; the  space  B B B'  13' 
in  the  plan,  between  each  pair  of  buttresses,  is  arched  over  with  a 
round  vault  bearing  the  terraced  roof  F,  over  which  the  ends  of  the 

Fig.  46. 


transverse  vaults  of  the  nave  are  left  open  at  G,  thus  admitting 
light  into  the  interior.  The  wall  I,  which  is  also  pierced  with  open 
arches,  is  merely  a screen  sustaining  no  weight.  If  we  deprive 
this  construction  of  everything  which  is  not  essential  to  its  perfect 
stability,  we  can,  as  indicated  on  the  left  of  the  plan  and  section 
(Fig.  46),  reduce  the  interior  piers  to  the  vertical  support  H,  increase 


GOTHIC  TRANSFORMATIONS  OF  THE  BASILICA. 


271 


the  size  of  the  openings  in  the  buttress  walls,  as  at  K,  suppress 
the  grand  order,  and,  by  opening  the  half-arch  L,  make  a flying 
buttress,  referring  the  thrust  of  the  main  vaulting  directly  to  the 
outer  pier  M.  This  is  the  true  structure. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  where  the  Roman  method  of  con- 
struction was  available,  it  could  not  be  applied  in  a more  simple, 
solid,  economical,  and  grander  manner  than  in  this  basilica  of  Con- 
stantine. But  we  have  elsewhere  stated  how  and  why  the  con- 
structive methods  among  the  Romans,  so  admirably  adapted  to  their 
political  and  administrative  organization,  were  entirely  impracticable 
in  the  West  under  the  feudal  régime.  The  lay  architects  at  the 
end  of  the  twelfth  century  were  obliged  to  avail  themselves  of  such 
means  as  were  most  readily  at  hand  ; and  even  had  they  recog- 
nized that  the  Roman  method  of  construction  was  the  only  good 
method,  it  is  not  probable  that  the  entire  political  organization  of 
their  time  would  have  been  changed  in  order  to  make  this  method 
available  ; for  under  no  other  circumstances  could  it  have  been 
admitted.  Indeed,  in  order  to  build  a great  room  like  that  de- 
scribed above,  a very  considerable  space  was  required  for  the  works 
in  the  beginning,  for  it  was  not  possible  to  carry  on  a construction 
of  this  kind  in  parts  ; it  was  essential  to  carry  up  the  whole  building 
on  a level  at  the  same  time  ; it  was  not  practicable  to  complete  one 
part  and  leave  the  rest  to  be  finished  afterwards  ; all  the  temporary 
wooden  centres  or  forms,  on  which  the  rubble  vaults  had  to  be  built, 
must  be  made  and  set  up  simultaneously  ; they  must  be  sufficiently 
strong  and  solid  to  bear  the  weight  of  this  rubble  while  the  work 
was  going  on  ; it  was  necessary  that,  when  these  centres  had  been 
prepared  and  set  up  (and  we  must  bear  in  mind  the  enormous  quan- 
tity of  wood  required  to  make  and  support  them),  the  vaults  should 
■ be  constructed  with  great  rapidity,  for  a rubble  vault  in  cement  to 
be  homogeneous  and  solid  must  be  executed  without  interruption  ; 
to  this  end,  vast  quantities  of  rubble,  bricks,  sand,  and,  above  all, 
of  lime  had  to  be  accumulated  at  the  works  in  the  beginning.  And, 
observe,  that,  before  even  this  accumulation,  the  bricks  had  to  be  made 
and  the  lime  prepared.  The  Romans  were  the  only  people  whose 
organization  was  such  that  they  could  construct  on  such  a scale. 

Now,  let  us  suppose  ourselves  in  France  in  the  twelfth  century, 
and  that  we  are  called  upon  to  construct  a great  public  building  ; 
vs  find  at  once  that  we  are  not  absolute  masters  even  of  the  site 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


970 

<W  i (V 


of  this  building  ; it  is  disputed  piece  by  piece,  and  only  yielded 
after  a long  resistance  ; the  wood,  which  we  at  once  require  for 
scaffolding  and  centerings,  is  not  delivered  to  us  in  enormous  quan- 
tities by  fleets  fitted  out  and  employed  for  our  use  ; on  the  contrary, 
we  have  to  get  our  timber,  stick  by  stick,  among  twenty  proprietors 
perhaps,  each  one  able  to  give  us  but  a few  pieces,  or  we  must  buy 
it,  and,  there  being  no  fixed  tariff,  we  shall  have  to  pay  dear  for  it 
it  our  necessities  are  known.  Let  us  suppose,  again,  that  our  ma- 
terials, instead  ot  being  brought  to  us,  on  a simple  requisition,  by 
disciplined  soldiers  or  slaves,  as  in  Roman  times,  have  to  be  ex- 
tracted in  small  quantities  and  from  several  quarries  on  different 
estates,  and  transported  with  such  appliances  as  we  can  command, 
or  by  means  of  voluntary  service  ; that  lime  is  delivered  to  us  suc- 
cessively, and  in  small  quantities  ; that  our  workmen  work  by  the' 
job  and  do  as  little  as  possible,  and  must  be  paid  roundly  ; and  that 
occasionally  the  liege  lord  takes  these  men  away  to  carry  on  war 
with  his  neighbor.  How,  under  such  circumstances,  are  we  to 
construct  an  edifice  like  the  basilica  of  Constantine?  And,  if  we 
begin,  shall  we  ever  be  able  to  finish  it?  We  shall  have  to  suspend 
work  for  the  want  of  wood  and  lime  before  the  edifice  is  half  fin- 
ished ; and  if,  after  many  delays,  we  can  go  on  with  it,  will  our 
construction  have  the  qualities  essential  to  its  perfect  solidity  ? Un- 
der the  conditions  I have  indicated,  should  we  not,  on  the  contrary, 
if  we  are  wise  and  prudent,  adopt  such  a method  of  building  as  will 
enable  us  to  dispense  with  the  necessity  of  accumulating  such  vast 
quantities  of  material  at  once,  and  to  so  divide  our  work  that  we 
can  suspend  and  resume  it  without  danger?  And  since  material 
is  obtained  with  so  much  difficulty,  should  we  not  use  every  effort 
to  economize  it,  and  endeavor  to  obtain  great  results  by  small  means? 
Let  us  see,  then,  how  we  should  proceed  to  make  a great  room  analo- 
gous to  the  basilica  of  Constantine. 

Our  quarries  supply  us  with  stone  for  masonry  in  abundance,  and, 
therefore,  it  is  unnecessary  to  waste  time  in  moulding  and  baking- 
bricks.  But  stone  is  dear,  we  must  economize  it,  and  only  use  it 
where  absolutely  necessary.  Instead,  therefore,  of  building  up  a 
solid  buttress  of  brick  and  rubble  pierced  at  its  base  with  an  arch, 
let  us,  as  in  Rig.  47,  erect  two  columns  of  stone  A A'  and  an  ex- 
terior buttress  B.  Instead  of  vaulting  each  bay  of  the  aisle  with 
a round  arch,  perpendicular  to  the  central  nave,  let  us  erect  an  inter- 


THE  GOTHIC  BASILICA, 


273 


mediate  column  C between  every  pair  of  buttresses,  and  thus 
obtain  two  cross-vaults  A D,  E C in  each  bay  of  the  aisle  to  one 


Fig.  47. 


IS 


274 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


cross-vault  in  the  nave.  Then,  while  the  nave  wall  is  set  astride 
the  double  columns  of  each  main  pier,  the  outer  projection  of  the 
double  capital  at  A will  serve  to  support  the  springing  of  the  pointed 
arch  A D,  across  the  aisle,  while  the  inner  projection  at  A'  will 
receive  the  base  of  the  engaged  colonettes  or  vaulting  shafts  at  I, 
which  run  up  on  the  inner  face  of  the  nave  wall  to  carry  the  spring- 
ing of  the  cross-ribs  of  the  central  or  nave  vault,  which  is  divided 
in  the  centre  of  each  of  its  great  bays,  transversely,  by  a pointed 
arch  C E,  starting  from  the  intermediate  column  C.  Instead  of 
building  solid  buttresses  to  withstand  the  thrusts  of  the  cross-vault- 
ing of  the  nave,  let  us  build  up  each  outer  buttress,  B to  K,  and 
throw  thence  a half-arch,  K L,  against  the  outside  of  the  nave 
wall,  to  replace  the  passive  resistance  of  a solid  buttress  by  the 
active  resistance  of  an  arch  thrusting  inwardly  against  the  Avail 
M,  to  meet  the  outward  thrust  of  the  nave  vaulting.  Thus  is  ob- 
tained an  equilibrium  of  forces.  But  as  Ave  can  scarcely  trust  to  the 
abutment  K alone  to  resist  the  thrust  referred  to  it  by  the  flying 
buttress  K L from  the  nave  vault,  Ave  will  surmount  it  with  a 
weight  N,  in  the  form  of  a pinnacle,  to  insure  its  stability.  Our 
climate  Avili  not  allow  us  to  construct  level  terraces  over  the  aisles, 
covered  Avith  concrete,  tiled  or  paved,  as  the  Romans  did  in  Italy, 
so  Ave  Avili  elevate  the  main  vaulting  high  enough  to  enable  us  to 
construct  a Avooden  lean-to  roof  P,  under  the  high  windows  R 
{clerestory),  of  the  nave  Avail  ; and  then,  to  lessen  the  Aveight  bear- 
ing on  the  main  arches  S of  the  nave  wall,  as  Avell  as  to  give 
light  and  air  to  the  space  occupied  by  the  timbers  in  the  roof  P, 
we  Avili  open  arches  T ( triforium ),  betAveen  the  nave  arches  below 
and  the  clerestory  above.  Soon  Ave  find  that  the  double  columns 
A A/  are  useless,  and  that  Ave  can  substitute  a single  cylindrical 
pillar,  as  the  main  weight,  if  the  construction  is  good,  Avili  in 
the  former  case  fall  between  the  columns.  Noav  Ave  can  see  per- 
fectly Avell  that  this  construction,  composed  as  it  is  of  an  accumula- 
tion of  bearings  referred  to  single  points  of  support  on  the  first  story, 
and,  above,  of  thrusts  opposed  by  active  abutments,  cannot  have 
the  solidity  and  inertia  of  the  Roman  structure  ; that  there  must 
be  movements  throughout  the  whole  building  ; and  that,  therefore, 
the  vaults  should  not  be  composed,  like  the  Roman,  of  a concrete, 
homogeneous  mass,  but  should  be  possessed  of  a certain  elasticity, 
in  order  to  enable  them  to  yield  to  these  movements  Avithout  danger 


THE  GOTHIC  BASILICA. 


i/o 


of  destruction.  But  even  if  the  Roman  vault  were  good  construc- 
tion under  these  circumstances,  we  have  not  at  our  command  the 
vast  quantity  of  timber  necessary  for  the  centres  or  forms  on  which 
it  must  be  constructed,  nor  have  we  the  requisite  materials.  We 
therefore  must  content  ourselves  with  laying  diagonal  and  pointed 
arches  upon  temporary  centres,  and  then  using  these  arches  or  ribs 
as  permanent  centres,  enabling  us  to  build  between  them,  follow- 
ing their  curves,  portions  of  concave  vaults,  without  the  necessity 
of  intermediate  wooden  centres,  according  to  the  Roman  fashion.* 
Thus,  if  necessity  required  it,  we  could  interrupt  our  works  and 
resume  them,  execute  them  altogether  or  in  parts,  without  affecting 
the  solidity  of  the  edifice  in  any  degree. 

Let  us,  like  rational  men,  reason  this  matter  out,  without  allow- 
ing ourselves  to  be  seduced  by  traditions  or  consecrated  forms.  In 
our  vaults,  we  reserve  the  full-centred  or  round  arch  for  the  diagonal 
ribs,  these  having,  naturally,  the  longest  diameter  ; and,  in  order 
to  diminish  the  thrusts  of  the  longitudinal  and  transverse  arches 
of  our  vaults,  as  well  as  to  elevate  their  summits  to  the  level  of 
the  keys  of  the  diagonal  ribs,  we  make  these  arches  pointed,  by 
using  two  arcs,  which  we  can  cause  to  intersect  at  any  desired 
height.  By  this  expedient,  we  are  no  longer  confined,  as  to  a cer- 
tain extent  the  Romanesque  architects  were,  to  the  square  plan  of 
the  Roman  cross-vault,  formed  by  the  interpenetration  of  two  equal 
semicylinders  at  right  angles,  but  can  vault  over  any  area,  whether 
a parallelogram,  quadrilateral,  triangle,  or  octagon,  regular  or  irregu- 
lar. Now,  I admit  that  a section  of  the  basilica  of  Constantine  may 
by  some  be  preferred  to  a section  of  any  analogous  building  of  the 
end  of  the  twelfth  century  ; but,  because  the  latter  conception  is  more 
complicated  and  requires  more  scientific  combinations  and  a more 
profound  process  of  reasoning,  is  it  therefore  more  barbarous?  Fol- 
lowing the  section  of  the  basilica  of  Constantine,  we  can  never  make 
any  new  application  of  its  principles.  It  is  a finished  conception, 
perfect,  if  you  please,  but  immutable;  it  has  nothing  more  to  say; 
its  construction  can  be  repeated  and  imitated,  but  not  modified 


* See,  in  the  “Diet,  raisonné  de  l’Areh.  franç.,”  the  article  Construction  (Vaults).  In  Fig. 
47  we  have  given,  at  A,  the  plan  of  the  first  story  ; at  V,  the  plan  of  the  piers  above  the  col- 
umns ; at  U,  the  transverse  section  of  the  building  ; and  at  X,  the  longitudinal  section,  show- 
ing one  bay.  The  cathedral  of  Arras  was  constructed  after  this  system.  We  may  still  see  at 
Sens,  in  the  nave  and  choir  of  the  cathedral  there,  dispositions  analogous  to  those  we  have 
described. 


276 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


without  altering  its  essential  elements  ; it  is  a cross-vault  on  a square 
plan,  and  cannot  be  anything  else  ; while  from  the  system  of  con- 
struction presented  in  the  section  (Fig.  47)  can  be  deduced  conse- 
quences without  number,  because  the  equilibrium  of  balanced  forces 
enables  us  to  indulge  in  all  imaginable  combinations,  and  opens 
to  us  paths  ever  new. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  examine  critically  the  forms  of  that  new 
architecture  which  arose  from  the  lay  school  of  the  West  at  the  close 
of  the  twelfth  century.  We  can  see  at  a glance  that  the  tendency 
towards  methods  of  reason  as  opposed  to  methods  of  tradition 
appears  not  only  in  the  construction  of  the  buildings  of  this  epoch, 
but  in  their  forms  and  decoration.  We  have  learned  that  the  an- 
cient Greeks  admitted  only  the  vertical  point  of  support,  charged 
vertically  with  the  lintel  of  a single  stone  ; that  the  Romans  long  em- 
ployed both  the  arch  and  lintel,  without  using  any  effort  to  harmonize 
their  conflicting  principles  ; that  at  the  end  of  the  empire,  aided 
by  the  Greeks,  they  allowed  the  arch  to  bear  directly  upon  the 
column,  but  without  attempting  to  create  any  definite  relations 
between  these  two  features  ; and  that  the  Romanesque  school  of  the 
West  developed  combinations  in  which  the  column  at  last  yielded 
to  the  arch,  and  became  a comparatively  unimportant  accessory. 
(See  Plate  XI.)  Among  the  first  Gothic  architects,  the  arch  abso- 
lutely conquered  the  vertical  point  of  support  ; it  governed,  not  only 
the  structure  of  the  edifice,  but  its  form  ; it  became  the  fountain 
of  all  the  architecture  of  the  time.  The  Romans  had,  indeed,  in 
many  cases,  submitted  their  structure  to  the  arch  or  vault  ; but,  I 
repeat,  every  point  of  support  in  their  architecture  was  an  inert 
mass,  and  their  vaulted  buildings  were,  so  to  speak,  scooped  out 
of  a solid  substance  ; they  were  cast  in  an  enormous  mould  ; but 
the  architects  of  the  twelfth  century  gave  to  every  part  of  their  build- 
ings an  active  function.  The  column  really  supported,  and,  if  its 
capital  projected,  it  was  to  bear  a superincumbent  weight  ; if  the 
profile  and  ornaments  of  this  capital  were  developed,  it  was  because 
this  development  was  practically  or  aesthetically  necessary.  If  the 
vaults  were  divided  by  many  ribs,  it  was  because  these  ribs  were 
so  many  nerves,  each  fulfilling  a distinct  function.  The  stability 
of  every  point  of  support  was  regulated  by  the  kind  and  amount 
of  work  it  had  to  perform.  Every  thrust  of  an  arch  found  another 
thrust  to  cancel  it.  Walls  disappeared,  and  became  only  screens. 


GOTHIC  CHARACTERISTICS. 


277 


not  supports.  The  whole  system  became  a frame  which  maintained 
itself,  not  by  its  mass,  but  by  a combination  of  oblique  forces  recip- 
rocally destroying  each  other.  The  vault  was  no  longer  a con- 
crete crust,  a hollow  shell  in  a single  piece,  but  an  intelligent  com- 
bination of  pressures  always  in  action,  and  referring  themselves 
to  certain  points  of  support  disposed  to  receive  them  and  to  trans- 
mit them  to  the  ground.  Mouldings  and  ornaments  were  cut  and 
arranged  to  aid  in  making  these  combinations  intelligible;  every 
moulding  exactly  performed  a useful  function  ; on  the  exterior,  they 
were  contrived,  by  projections  of  the  simplest  outlines,  to  protect  the 
walls  from  the  wash  of  rains  ; within,  they  were  rare,  only  designat- 
ing the  various  levels  of  construction  or  developing  boldly  to  serve 
as  corbels  or  bases.  The  ornaments  were  composed  only  with  the 
local  flora,  for  the  architects  wished  to  use  their  own  material  of  de- 
sign, without  borrowing  anything  from  the  past  or  from  foreign  arts. 
These  ornaments  were  always  chosen  for  the  place  they  were  to  oc- 
cupy, were  always  visible  and  easy  to  comprehend,  while  remaining 
ever  subordinate  to  the  architectural  and  constructional  lines  of  the 
building  ; they  were  sculptured  in  the  stone-yard,  before  laying,  and 
took  their  rank  as  necessary  members  of  the  whole. 

In  the  Gallo-Roman  buildings,  erected  during  the  decline  of  the 
empire,  sculpture  seems  to  have  been  spread  at  hazard  upon  walls, 
pilasters,  and  even  upon  the  shafts  of  the  columns  ; it  would  appear 
that,  when  the  construction  was  completed,  sculptors  were  let  loose 
upon  the  rough  walls  to  carve  upon  them  as  many  figures  as  they 
would  hold,  without  regard  to  joints  or  beds. 

The  Romanesque  architecture,  towards  its  decline,  especially  in 
Western  France,®'  fell  into  the  same  abuse.  But  the  lay  architects 
of  the  French  school  at  once  abandoned  these  habits,  which  were 
the  unmistakable  marks  of  a declining  art.  The  ornamentation, 
in  their  hands,  became  sober  and  rational;  it  occupied  only  certain 
parts  of  the  architecture,  was  always  subordinate,  and  so  nicely  bal- 
anced in  quantity  and  treatment  that  it  could  neither  be  decreased 
nor  augmented  without  injury  to  the  general  harmony. 

We  are  very  apt  to  judge  of  these  buildings  according  to  their 
present  appearance,  regardless  of  the  fact  that,  during  the  lapse  of 
seven  centuries,  they  have  submitted  to  many  changes  and  mutila- 
tions ; and  to  blame  their  original  architects  for  faults  and  marks 

* As  in  certain  monuments  of  Poitiers  belonging  to  the  twelfth  century. 


278 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  poverty  in  design  or  material  which  are  really  the  result  of  subse- 
quent additions  or  degradations.  On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be 
admitted  that,  forming  our  judgment  concerning  the  monuments 
of  classic  antiquity  from  their  shattered  ruins,  our  imagination, 
supplying  that  which  is  wanting,  is  apt  to  create  beauties  which 
never  existed.  It  has  already  been  remarked  that  very  many  Roman 
buildings  would  gain  nothing  by  restoration  ; that  which  remains, 
the  structure,  being  often  all  that  constituted  their  grandeur  or 
beauty.  I would  not  say  this,  however,  of  Greek  architecture,  which, 
on  the  contrary,  to  be  appreciated  at  its  full  value,  should  be  sup- 
posed completed  and  surrounded  by  all  its  accessories. 

Now,  as  our  architecture  has  been  inspired  much  more  by  Roman 
than  by  Greek  precedent  since  the  Renaissance,  we  have  neglected 
one  of  the  most  precious  qualities  which  mediaeval  architecture  shared 
with  Greek,  but  which  did  not  appear  in  our  Roman  models.  The 
Roman  was  not  sensitive  to  the  charms  of  outline,  and  concerned 
himself  little  regarding  the  general  aspect  of  his  monuments,  which, 
from  accidental  points  of  view,  therefore,  were  frequently  anything 
but  attractive  to  the  eye.  When,  in  imagination,  we  restore  the 
actual  mass  of  those  great  piles  which  were  the  especial  marks  of 
his  genius,  we  find  that,  athough  imposing  from  their  dimensions, 
they  never  presented,  in  general  lines  or  in  combination  of  masses, 
the  elegance  which  always  distinguished  the  Greek  works.  I repeat, 
that  light,  the  transparency  of  the  atmosphere,  the  peculiarities  of  the 
site  and  of  its  neighborhood,  were  essential  elements  in  every  Greek 
design  ; how  the  angles  of  the  structure  should  be  profiled  against 
the  sky,  or  detached  from  the  blue  background  of  the  mountains, 
were  always  matters  of  especial  study.  It  is  very  evident  that  the 
Greeks  never  fell  into  the  great  modern  architectural  error  of  study- 
ing their  designs  only  in  geometrical  elevation , without  that  very  exact 
and  very  delicate  regard  for  perspective  effects  which  is  essential  to 
successful  composition  ; on  the  contrary,  they  studied  these  effects, 
and  allowed  for  them  in  their  designs,  like  true  artists,  understanding 
very  well  that,  when  executed,  their  monuments  could  never  be  seen 
geometrically.  Such  calculations,  the  especial  care  of  men  endowed 
with  a just  and  delicate  feeling  for  form,  never  troubled  the  brain  of 
the  Roman,  whose  only  preoccupation,  it  is  easy  to  see,  was  the 
geometrical  design,  the  positive  considerations  of  structure,  without 
regard  to  the  destructive  and  distorting  effects  of  perspective  upon 


PERSPECTIVE  DESIGN. 


279 


proportions.  Our  imitation  of  Roman  art  lias  led  us  into  the  same 
error,  and  we  combine  our  plans  and  elevations  upon  paper,  too  often 
regardless  of  the  effects  which  the  latter  should  present  when  exe- 
cuted and  seen  from  the  most  usual  points  of  view.  But,  like  the 
Greeks,  the  French  architects  of  the  twelfth  century  had  a very  culti- 
vated and  refined  sentiment  in  regard  to  effect  ; they  caressed  their 
architectural  forms  and  shaped  them  with  a tender  regard  for  their 
outline  in  perspective,  and  never  labored  under  the  lamentable  hal- 
lucination of  modern  times,  that  their  monuments  were  to  be  seen 
perpendicularly  to  one  of  their  faces,  rather  than  from  the  accidental 
angles  of  view  assumed  by  the  beholder.  The  Greeks  had  a passion 
for  architecture,  and  so  loved  it  that,  in  going  to  and  fro  on  their 
various  concerns,  they  looked  at  their  monuments  ; and  their  archi- 
tects, therefore,  took  good  care  that  the  aspect  of  their  buildings 
should  be  agreeable  from  every  point  of  view,  and,  above  all,  that 
their  outlines  should  be  always  happy.  Now,  the  barbarous  mediae- 
val architects  of  France  had  the  same  artistic  foibles  ; but  in  these 
modern  days,  when  we  have  become  decidedly  Latin,  and  are  at  last 
really  a sensible  people,  we  are  accustomed  to  go  about  our  occu- 
pations without  any  of  this  weak  affection  or  interest  for  the  out- 
line of  a monument  ; or,  if  we  think  it  the  proper  thing  to  be  ama- 
teurs of  the  fine  arts,  and  to  be  familiar  with  the  productions  of  orn- 
era, we  post  ourselves  directly  in  front  of  a façade,  right  on  its 
centre  line,  and  unhappy  is  the  architect  if  one  side  is  not  found  to 
be  an  exact  copy  of  the  other;  for  symmetry  seems  to  be  almost 
the  only  quality  of  design  to  which  we  are  sensitive.  By  degrees 
our  architects  have  abandoned  the  custom  of  composing  their  designs 
in  perspective  in  their  studios,  or,  at  least,  all  their  graphic  studies 
are  geometrical.  I do  not  believe  the  Greeks  did  so,  and  it  is 
certain  that  the  mediaeval  architects  always  allowed  for  effects  pro- 
duced at  accidental  angles  of  view,  as  is  evident  from  the  manner 
in  which  all  the  angles  and  corners  of  their  edifices  were  combined, 
from  the  profiles  of  their  cornices,  and  from  the  way  in  which  they 
placed  pyramids  or  spires  with  an  octagonal  base  upon  prisms  or 
towers  with  a square  base.  It  is  proved  also  by  the  fact  that  their 
buildings,  when  viewed  in  perspective,  present  many  points  of  excel- 
lence and  harmony  which,  when  those  buildings  are  drawn  in  geo- 
metrical elevation,  can  neither  be  seen  nor  suspected. 

There  is  still  another  quality,  which,  although  shared  by  our  mediae- 


280 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


val  architects  with  the  Greeks,  we  have  almost  entirely  lost,  since 
we  have  imagined  that  we  were  Romans  ; I refer  to  the  sentiment 
of  form.  Onr  lay  schools  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centu- 
ries possessed  this  sentiment  in  a very  marked  degree  ; and  if  the 
architecture  of  the  Greeks  and  that  of  the  Ile-de-France  in  the 
twelfth  century  are  opposed  to  each  other  in  principle,  and  therefore 
necessarily  very  dissimilar  in  results,  we  find  the  most  striking 
relations  between  them  in  everything  which  relates  to  elegance  of 
form,  profiles,  and  ornamentation,  in  certain  effects  of  detail,  in  the 
study  of  outline,  and  in  the  emphasis  with  which  those  parts  are 
treated  which  belong  at  once  to  construction  and  decoration  ; there 
is,  indeed,  no  imitation,  there  is  no  identity  of  forms  between  the 
two  arts,  but  there  is  a very  strong  resemblance  as  regards  habits 
of  thought  and  expression.  If  our  mediaeval  architects  did  not  avail 
themselves  of  the  resources  furnished  by  the  application  of  color  to 
form  to  the  extent  that  the  Greeks  did,  they  discovered,  in  variety 
of  form,  effects  of  which  the  Greeks  were  ignorant  ; they  were  much 
more  sensitive  to  form  than  to  color,  rather  draughtsmen  than  color- 
ists. The  French,  during  the  twelfth,  thirteenth,  fourteenth,  and 
sixteenth  centuries,  had  remarkable  schools  of  sculptors  and  archi- 
tects, and  the  seventeenth  century  abounded  in  excellent  engravers  ; 
but  our  painters  were  never  able  to  rival  those  of  Italy,  and  our 
decorators,  in  the  art  of  combining  colors,  never  attained  the  excel- 
lence of  the  Orientals.  The  French,  however,  have  shown  them- 
selves a people  particularly  endowed  with  all  the  qualities  which 
distinguish  the  architect,  and,  if  they  do  not  continue  to  be  led 
astray  by  errors  of  education,  they  will  again  develop  these  char- 
acteristics of  their  nature. 

For  some  years  past  it  has  been  generally  recognized  that  the 
lay  architectural  schools  of  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century  were 
very  profound  and  very  refined,  perhaps  even  too  refined,  in  their 
art  ; that  they  exhibited  a great  inspiration  and  abundant  resources  ; 
but  the  forms,  the  characteristic  developments  of  this  art,  have  never 
yet  been  seriously  considered.  It  was  by  these  forms  that  our  me- 
diaeval architects  gave  utterance  to  the  liveliest  expression  of  the 
national  genius,  — a genius  naturally  supple,  quick  and  fertile  in  ex- 
pedients, mingling  grandeur  with  a simplicity  perhaps  more  affected 
than  sincere,  rational,  yet  at  the  same  time  fickle,  changeable,  and 
apt  to  prefer  appearance  to  reality. 


THE  CRAFT-SPIRIT  IN  GOTHIC  ART. 


281 


A people  who,  though  civilized  in  the  beginning,  had  for  several 
centuries  been  oppressed  by  barbarian  conquerors,  and  delivered  over 
to  secular  or  clerical  feudalism;  whose  enlightenment  had  for  a long 
time  reached  them  only  through  the  cloak  of  the  monk,  but  who, 
nevertheless,  in  a few  years  built  up  a complete  art,  logical  in  all 
its  principles,  and  novel  in  all  its  means  and  ends,  from  structure 
to  form  ; a people  who,  having  constituted  such  an  art,  pursued  all  its 
logical  developments  with  enthusiasm,  led  astray  by  no  side  issues 
and  admitting  no  reaction,  — such  a people  have  abundantly  proved 
themselves  possessed  of  a most  extraordinary  instinct,  if  they  have 
not  added  to  the  history  of  art  a chapter  which  has  no  parallel. 

But  let  us  return  to  our  historical  sketch.  Prance,  we  have  said, 
in  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century,  was  so  situated  politically  and 
socially  that  the  cloister  no  longer  had  the  monopoly  of  art.  A 
purely  lay  school  arose,  which  at  once  reacted  against  the  monastic 
spirit  1 >y  substituting  investigation  and  experiment  for  consecrated 
traditions  ; the  new  principles  thus  developed  were  obtained,  not 
from  perfecting  imposed  types,  but  from  science  and  the  observation 
of  laws  not  up  to  that  time  admitted  in  the  art  of  construction. 
This  school  was  a sort  of  freemasonry,  drawing  its  inspiration  from 
itself;  while  holding  to  the  liberty  of  the  workman,  it  never  for  an 
instant  turned  aside  from  the  line  of  progress  it  had  laid  out  ; it 
abandoned  not  only  the  methods  of  construction  used  bv  the  Roman- 
esque architects,  but  their  mouldings,  their  sculpture  and  fashions  of 
decorating  ; in  a quarter  of  a century  it  transformed  not  only  the 
tine  but  the  industrial  arts,  and  absorbed  the  patronage  of  all  the 
great  bodies  of  state  ; though  always  of  the  people,  it  became  so 
powerful  that  it  was  called  upon  to  build  the  château,  the  municipal 
hall,  the  palace,  the  hospital,  and  the  fortress,  as  well  as  the  church, 
and  even  the  very  convent  which  had  thus  allowed  the  monopoly  of 
art  to  escape  from  its  bosom.  In  this  great,  popular  art-movement 
the  individual  artist  had  his  work  to  do,  but  he  never  affixed  his 
signature  ; he  was  anonymous  ; the  movement  was  the  result  of  a 
craft-spirit  which  brought  into  complete  discipline  all  that  perfect 
liberty  of  thought  and  act  which  was  necessary  to  the  art-workman, 
and  all  the  science  and  skill  which  were  essential  to  the  work  ; there 
was  no  power  to  hinder  this  school  from  a natural  and  triumphant 
development  ; it  everywhere  gave  free  expression  to  its  tastes  and 
preferences,  its  hatred  of  injustice  and  oppression,  and  even  its  ten- 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


9 co 

«4 /0<w 


dency  to  satire.  So  thoroughly  did  it  assert  its  independence  in 
works  of  art,  that,  when  this  liberty  finally  became  license,  there  were 
none  to  arrest  it  ; but  it  was  by  this  license  that  at  last  it  fell,  after 
having  forced  its  principles  to  an  exaggerated  and  unnatural  develop- 
ment, its  workmanship  to  an  unnecessary  perfection,  and  its  science 
to  the  last  limits  of  possibility. 

Now,  if  must  be  remembered  by  those  who  would  reject  Gothic 
art  as  a motive  for  modern  design  because  it  arose  in  the  Dark  Ages, 
that  this  emancipation  of  the  artist  and  of  the  laborious  classes  — 
an  emancipation  which  restored  them  to  their  duty  of  interpreting 
by  works  the  national  genius  — had  nothing  in  common  with  ine- 
diæval  politics.  Men  who  labored  incessantly  in  their  intellectual 
development,  and  in  perfecting  the  practical  means  of  an  art  which 
belonged  to  them  and  of  which  they  alone  were  masters,  must  not 
be  confounded  with  those  petty  feudal  tyrants,  who,  though  they 
swarmed  over  the  surface  of  politics  and  disturbed  it  with  continual 
brawl  and  bloodshed,  had  no  influence  either  for  or  against  this 
peaceful  society  of  artists  and  artisans,  were  powerless  to  arrest  or 
develop  its  progress,  and  were  only  too  happy  to  avail  themselves 
of  its  harmless  industry  and  intelligence.  These  artists  and  artisans 
did  not  make  the  state  of  society  in  the  midst  of  which  they  lived. 
They  did  not  obtain  their  independence  by  disturbing  the  world 
with  propagandas  and  revolutions.  But.  it  was  by  labor,  and  by 
unity  of  labor,  that  they  sought  to  isolate  and  elevate  and  enlarge 
the  circle  in  which  they  were  placed.  Shall  we  be  so  ungrateful 
as  not  to  recognize  these  efforts  ? We  honor  with  statues  a few 
commonplace  artists,  who  are  nothing  more  than  plagiarists  of  arts 
foreign  to  our  country  and  our  genius  ; but  shall  we  have  no  recogni- 
tion in  our  hearts  for  men  who,  in  a position  so  modest,  were  the 
first  who  expressed  national  unity,  and  the  revival  of  learning,  of  art, 
and  of  science,  by  an  outward  and  visible  sign  ? 

This  unprecedented  development  of  moral  power  and  influence, 
exhibited  by  the  lay  school  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century,  can- 
not be  explained  by  the  theory  that  the  Romanesque  or  monastic 
schools  had  fallen  so  low  that  an  immediate  and  radical  reform  had 
become  necessary  and  natural  ; ou  the  contrary,  if  we  examine  into 
the  history  of  these  schools  at  the  time  when  the  great  lay  school 
began  its  triumphant  career,  we  shall  find  that  they  were  all  flourish- 
ing and  producing  works  of  rare  elegance  ; but  they  were  divided. 


ELEGANCE  OE  SOME  ROMANESQUE  WORK. 


283 


At  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  Cistercian  building 
did  not  resemble  the  Clunisian,  the  architecture  of  Poitiers  had  no 
analogy  with  that  of  Normandy,  and  this  differed  essentially  from 
the  architecture  of  the  Ile-de-France,  which,  in  its  turn,  was  distinct 
from  that  of  Auvergne  and  Limousin  ; the  Romanesque  art  of  Bur- 
gundy and  Lyons  was  not  that  of  Champagne  ; yet  all  these  schools 
possessed  the  elements  of  life,  their  executive  facilities  had  been 
brought  to  great  perfection,  and  they  each,  reflecting  as  they  did  the 
characteristics  of  the  people  or  traditions  among  which  they  had 
grown,  exhibited  distinctive  traits  of  originality.  Thus,  in  Bur- 
gundy, the  Romanesque  architecture  of  the  twelfth  century  was  en- 
tirely Clunisian  ; in  Champagne  it  was  rather  Cistercian  ; in  Au- 
vergne it  was  delicate,  elegant,  and  held  to  local  Roman  traditions 
and  to  Byzantine  influences,  which  had  come  by  way  of  Périgord 
and  Limousin  ; in  Poitiers  it  was  confused,  overcharged  with  sculp- 
ture, and  still  retained  the  imprint  of  Gallo-Roman  arts  ; in  Nor- 
mandy it  was  severe,  methodical,  scientific,  powerful,  refined  in  con- 
struction, but  poor  in  decoration  ; it  was  the  expression  of  a people 
positive  and  calculating  in  disposition,  tenacious  and  self-contained, 
but  without  traditions  ; in  the  Ile-de-France  this  architecture  was 
refined,  quiet,  pliant,  and  already  bore  the  marks  of  that  reserve 
which  is  always  the  indication  of  an  elevated  taste.  In  Saintonge, 
the  Romanesque  architecture  of  this  era  was  plainly  the  faithful  expo- 
nent of  the  mild  and  tranquil  people  of  the  West,  made  up  of  firm- 
ness and  refinement  ; this  approached,  perhaps,  nearest  of  all  to  the 
Greek  art  of  the  Byzantine  period  ; it  possessed  all  its  charm,  all  the 
elegance  and  purity  of  its  details,  all  its  delicacy  and  frankness  of 
execution. 

Let  us  study,  for  example,  in  Plate  NIL,  the  side  elevation  of  the 
church  of  St.  Eutropius  at  Saintes.  Would  you  not  take  this  for  one 
of  the  Byzantine  monuments  from  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic,  but 
better  reasoned  in  construction,  and  even  more  Greek  than  they 
in  the  execution  of  its  details  ? The  lower  windows  give  light  to 
a crypt,  the  bays  of  the  aisles  within  are  indicated  externally  by 
discharging  arches,  in  which,  as  it  were,  the  vaults  penetrate  through 
the  outer  walls.  The  architect  understood  how  to  give  grandeur 
to  his  order  bv  the  arrangement  of  his  apertures  ; he  considered,  not 
without  reason,  that  if  the  archivolts  of  his  windows  were  concentric 
with  the  discharging  arches,  to  which  we  have  referred,  they  would 


284 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


give  to  these  bays  too  much  importance  ; lie  felt  that  concentric 
arches  of  different  diameters,  repeated  one  under  the  other,  would 
have  a disagreeable  effect,  so  he  preferred  to  pierce  the  wall  under 
the  crown  of  the  main  arches  with  circular  windows,  which,  while 
admitting  light  into  the  interior,  serve  also  to  indicate  that  the  in- 
terior  vaulting  rises  as  high  as  the  outer  discharging  arches.  The 
whole  construction  is  composed  of  small  materials,  such  as  could 
be  carried  up  by  hand,  without  the  aid  of  machines.  The  profiles 
of  the  mouldings  are  extremely  delicate,  and  drawn  with  consummate 
art.  The  ornaments  are  but  an  embroidery,  whose  purity  and  charm- 
ing arrangement  illustrate,  without  disguising  the  mouldings.  Not- 
withstanding this  poverty  of  resource  and  simplicity  of  means,  this 
architecture  has  a grand  effect;  it  is  easy  to  understand,  and  plainly 
expresses  it  destination.  This  is  one  of  a hundred  examples  not  less 
remarkable,  which  were  produced  by  the  best  schools  of  the  West  in 
the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century;  and  if  we  compare  this  art 
with  the  Western  Italian  architecture  of  the  same  or  nearly  the  same 
epoch,  as  instanced  in  the  exterior  side  view  of  the  cathedral  of  Pisa, 
in  which  there  is  no  indication  whatever  of  the  interior  structure, 
which  in  proportions  is  not  agreeable,  in  aspect  is  cold  and  monoto- 
nous, in  details  deplorably  executed,  with  profiles  imitated  from  the 
last  epoch  of  Roman  art,  — in  which  example,  I ask,  is  the  real  sci- 
ence and  the  higher  art  ? It  is  true  that  the  side  of  the  cathedral  of 
Pisa  is  a facing  of  costly  marble,  that  it  rests  upon  a beautiful  plat- 
form of  the  same  material,  and  is  admirably  placed,  while  the  church 
of  St.  Eutropius  at  Saintes  has  been  thrice  devastated,  its  base  is  lost 
in  rubbish,  defiled  with  tilth,  and  overgrown  with  weeds  and  bram- 
bles, and  it  is  in  Prance  ; yet  need  it  shrink  from  the  comparison  ? 

I think  it  well  to  present,  in  Pig.  48,  a few  of  the  details  and  pro- 
files which  decorate  this  architectural  fragment.*  He  avIio  has  had 
the  least  experience  in  the  effect  of  architectural  profiles,  and  who 
has  considered  how  profoundly  reasoned  and  tenderly  felt  were  the 
Greek  profiles  of  antiquity  and  of  the  Byzantine  epoch,  cannot  fail  to 
detect  a close  analogy  between  the  Greek  mouldings  and  these,  in 

* The  profile  A is  the  arch i volt  of  one  of  the  high  windows  ; the  profile  B belongs  to  one  of 
the  main  discharging  arches  ; the  detail  C is  a capital  of  one  of  the  high  windows,  and  D is 
one  of  the  capitals  of  the  grand  order  supporting  the  arcade.  The  profile  E is  of  the  string- 
course under  the  high  windows,  and  the  design  F is  the  archivolt  of  the  windows  of  the  crypt. 
These  arches  have  all  different  profiles  of  mouldings  and  different  decorations.  Those  of  the 
crypt  windows  are  the  only  ones  alike. 


ELEGANCE  OF  SOME  ROMANESQUE  WORK. 


285 


method  of  composition,  in  knowledge  of  effect,  in  freedom  from  the 
restraints  of  precedent,  and  in  their  management  of  the  contrasts 

Fig.  48. 


2S6 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  light  and  shade.  But  it  is  useless  to  enlarge  on  topics  so  delicate 
and  so  entirely  matters  of  artistic  feeling  ; reasoning  will  prove  noth- 
ing to  those  who  have  not  the  sentiment  of  art. 

At  about  the  same  time  the  Clunisians  constructed  the  nave  of 
Vezelay.  (See  Plate  XI.)  The  Romanesque  of  Burgundy  is  as  robust 
and  even  rude  as  that  of  Saintonge  is  fine  and  delicate.  At  Saintes 
the  capitals  are  short,  of  very  slight  projection,  and  covered  with 
sculpture  like  jewelry;  the  mouldings  are  flat,  and  composed  of  a 
great  number  of  members  ; the  ornaments  are  a mere  embroidery  ; 
the  proportions  are  elongated,  and  almost  slender.  At  Vezelay,  on  the 
contrary,  the  construction  is  made  up  of  large  stones,  the  proportions 
are  stumpy,  the  capitals  are  enormous  and  widely  spread,  to  carry 
arches  without  mouldings  ; the  mouldings  are  large  and  simple  in 
composition  ; the  sculpture  energetic,  strong,  and  still  savage,  but  full 
of  style  ; we  recognize  here  an  art  which  knows  its  power  and  would 
fain  rule.  The  Norman  school  resembles  neither  of  these;  to  find 
the  best  specimens  of  that  branch  of  the  Romanesque  school,  pre- 
serving its  characteristics  through  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centu- 
ries, we  must  leave  Prance  and  seek  them  in  England,  where  this 
style  was  developed  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century.  The  Normans 
were  skilful  constructors  ; yet  they  did  not  undertake  to  build  very 
wide  vaults  until  such  vaults  had  long  been  common  in  Burgundy 
and  the  Ile-de-France.  Even  so  late  as  the  close  of  the  twelfth 
century,  they  continued  to  cover  their  high  naves  with  wood,  but 
they  gave  to  their  vertical  constructions  a monumental  character 
which  cannot  be  found  elsewhere.  The  Normaiïs,  although  occupied 
by  great  political  enterprises,  Avere  endowed  with  a subtle  and  posi- 
tive spirit,  evidences  of  which  we  can  see  imprinted  upon  their  mon- 
uments. It  is  easy  to  recognize  this  in  the  earlier  parts  of  the 
churches  of  the  Trinity  and  St.  Stephen  at  Caen,  in  the  remains  of 
those  at  St.  Wandrille  and  Jumiéges,  and  especially  in  the  monu- 
ments erected  by  them  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel.  The  tran- 
sept of  the  cathedral  of  Peterborough,  for  example,  built  about  the 
middle  of  the  twelfth  century,  perfectly  expresses  the  peculiarities 
of  the  Norman  style  at  the  moment  of  its  greatest  splendor.  (See 
Plate  XIII.)  Here  we  see  great  precision  in  masonry,  careful  exe- 
cution, but  no  sculpture  ; a well-reasoned  and  intelligent  construc- 
tion, a fine  feeling  for  proportions,  monotonous  profiles,  but  carefully 
adapted  to  the  place  they  occupy,  and  a seeking  for  great  decora- 


I’l  \?r 


THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  PETERBOROUGH. 


PART  OF 


NAVE,  INTERIOR. 


CHARACTERISTIC  DEVELOPMENTS  OE  ROMANESQUE.  2S7 


tive  effects.  Plate  XIII.,  on  the  right  side,  indicates  the  system  of 
construction  employed  ; the  walls  are  not  open  in  their  lower  parts, 
and  they  are  decorated  with  an  arcade  G applied  to  the  surface. 
Along  the  second  range  of  windows,  at  I,  the  architect  has  reserved 
a passage  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall  to  give  access  to  the  glass,  and 
thus  facilitate  repairs  and  cleaning.  At  the  height  of  the  third 
range  of  windows,  the  construction  is  still  more  lightened,  and 
the  passage  K forms  an  open  arcade  along  the  transept.  Under 
every  tie-beam  of  the  wooden  roof,  engaged  columns,  starting 
from  the  pavement,  divide  the  order  into  hays.  If  this  architecture 
is  further  from  Roman  art  than  that  of  any  other  Romanesque  style 
or  epoch,  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  wants  neither  grandeur  nor 
sagacity. 

While  the  Romanesque  architecture  of  Burgundy  Avas  robust,  bold, 
and  full  of  life,  while  that  of  Normandy  was  grand  and  compara- 
tively scientific,  while  that  of  the  ancient  Celtic  populations  of  the 
West  was  elegant,  delicate,  and  refined,  that,  of  the  Ile-de-France,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century,  Avas  simple,  modest,  and  Latin 
in  construction  and  form,  yielding  to  the  nature  of  the  material  em- 
ployed, and  already  giving  indications  of  a chastened  taste,  as  far 
removed  from  exaggeration  as  from  timidity.  The  valleys  of  the 
Middle  Seine,  of  the  Oise,  and  of  the  LoAver  Marne  are  still  occu- 
pied by  a great  many  buildings  of  this  epoch,  charming  in  plan, 
learned  in  construction,  sober  in  sculpture.  But  what  distinguishes 
this  province  more  especially  from  all  those  which  compose  France 
proper  is  variety.  In  Auvergne,  for  example,  all  the  edifices  of  the 
eleventh  century  resemble  each  other,  and  appear  to  have  been  built 
under  the  same  patron  and  by  the  same  workmen.  The  same  re- 
mark is  true  of  Burgundy,  of  the  Upper  Marne,  and  of  the  ancient 
territory  of  the  Ædui.  And  there  are  certain  ideas  and  principles 
in  Norman  architecture  which  never  vary.  It  is  the  same  with 
Poitiers  and  Saintonge.  But  in  the  Ile-de-France,  even  in  the 
Romanesque  epoch,  there  appeared  a liberty  and  variety  in  the 
types  indicating  incessant  efforts  to  shake  off  the  restraints  of 
tradition.  It  Avas  from  this  series  of  efforts  and  experiments  that 
that  architecture  Avas  finally  deduced,  which  Suger,  as  I have 
said,  seemed  to  have  inaugurated  by  a bold  and  sudden  stroke  of 
original  genius  in  the  abbey  church  of  St.  Denis.  This  archi- 
tecture soon  found  its  Avay  into  other  provinces,  according  to 


288 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


their  respective  sensitiveness  to  receive  and  be  modified  by  new 
ideas.  Tims  to  the  active  and  enterprising  spirit  of  the  Burgun- 
dians these  innovations  were  peculiarly  grateful,  and  were  soon 
adopted  by  them;  nor  did  the  Normans  long  delay  to  appropri- 
ate the  new  principles  in  their  fashion.  But  the  provinces  of  the 
centre  and  west  neither  comprehended  nor  adopted  them  ; their 
sluggish  spirit,  and,  it  must  be  admitted,  the  perfection  to  which  the 
Romanescpie  architecture  had  already  been  brought  among  them,  left 
no  desire  for  innovations.  They  were  content  for  the  time  with  what 
they  had,  and  did  not  desire  change.  In  fact,  the  architecture  called 
Gothic,  of  which  we  speak,  did  not  penetrate  into  these  provinces  till 
very  late,  towards  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  even  then 
it  was  received  as  a foreign  importation,  or  rather  as  an  irresistible 
invasion  to  which  all  local  systems  of  art  had  to  yield. 

It  is  a fact,  demonstrated  by  history,  that  the  arts  have  but  a very 
feeble  influence  in  the  midst  of  a highly  civilized  society,  possessing 
a settled  government  and  good  laws  ; here  they  become,  naturally,  a 
mere  matter  of  luxury,  modifying  less  and  less  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  nation.  But  when  society  is  in  process  of  forma- 
tion, the  case  is  very  different;  art  becomes  then  a powerful  agent 
in  the  development  of  civilization  ; and  if  there  exist  any  points 
of  affinity  between  the  races  and  ancient  local  traditions,  it  becomes 
one  of  the  most  active  instruments  of  unity.  Thus,  in  the  first  years 
of  the  thirteenth  century,  the  royal  power  availed  itself  of  this  means 
to  assist  in  its  efforts  towards  national  unity  ; the  result  was,  that 
wherever  this  art-influence  was  applied  and  felt,  it  manifested  itself 
in  the  construction  of  a cathedral  (which  was  a civil  as  well  as  a 
religious  monument),  built  according  to  the  new  principles  which 
were  first  admitted  at  St.  Denis,  in  the  centre  of  the  royal  do- 
main. The  civil  and  military  kept  pace  with  the  religious  archi- 
tecture ; and  in  the  city  where  a Gothic  cathedral  was  constructed, 
civic  buildings,  mansions,  and  fortifications  arose  at  the  same  time, 
and  in  an  equal  degree  divested  of  the  influence  of  Romanesque 
traditions.  If  there  ever  was  a Renaissance  in  Trance,  it  was  at  this 
epoch,  when  the  lay  spirit  entered  upon  its  illustrious  era  of  natural 
and  unrestricted  action,  when  arts  and  crafts  were  freely  developed 
in  the  bosom  of  a nation  which  at  length  recognized  its  own  nation- 
ality, and  gathered  itself  up  as  a concretion  of  intelligent  powers 
after  ages  of  obscurity  and  misery. 


ADAPTABILITY  OF  GOTHIC. 


289 


I cannot,  within  these  limits,  undertake  to  describe  in  detail  the 
principles  and  spirit  of  the  French  architecture  of  the  thirteenth 
century  ; this  work  has  been  done  elsewhere  ; I shall  content  myself, 
therefore,  with  considering  those  qualities  of  this  era  of  art  which 
especially  interest  us,  and  may  be  applied  to  art-development  in 
all  times  and  in  every  state  of  society. 

An  architecture  whose  form  is  sufficiently  elastic,  and  Avhose  prin- 
ciples are  sufficiently  broad,  to  be  adapted  to  all  the  complex  and 
changing  requirements  of  civilized  society,  is  no  common  thing  ; 
if  such  an  art  does  exist,  we  have  a very  serious  interest  in  studying 
its  form  and  examining  into  its  principles.  In  the  state  of  scepticism 
into  which  we  have  fallen  in  respect  to  art,  we  have  very  little  real 
interest  in  the  emulation  of  rival  schools,  or  in  the  pseudo-Greek,  the 
pseudo-Roman,  or  the  pseudo-Gothic  which  they  give  us.  But  what 
we  are  concerned  about  is,  that  public  and  private  buildings  should, 
in  plan  and  construction,  be  made  to  conform  to  our  usages,  to  our 
climate,  to  our  national  spirit,  and  to  the  progress  which  has  been 
made  in  science  and  practical  knowledge.  Indeed,  to  state  this  point 
frankly,  I dare  to' say  that,  while  it  is  impossible,  in  building  a Greek 
or  Roman  edifice,  properly  to  employ  in  it  certain  materials,  like 
iron,  which  modern  ingenuity  and  industry  have  developed  into  use- 
fulness, the  principles  and  methods  of  building  developed  by  the  lay 
architects  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century  admit,  without  effort,  the 
employment  of  every  new  material,  and  are  adaptable  to  all  the  re- 
quirements of  modern  society.  Again,  economy,  on  account  of  the 
multiplicity  of  these  modern  requirements  to  be  satisfied,  lias  become 
a necessity.  Now  we  cannot  avail  ourselves  of  the  absolute  and  lim- 
ited principles  of  the  styles  of  antiquity  without  adopting  their  meth- 
ods, which  were  very  costly  ; we  are  therefore,  in  so  doing,  dragged 
into  expenses  which  are  not  in  proportion  to  our  resources  ; or,  if 
we  would  change  these  methods,  we  falsify  the  essential  principles 
of  antique  art,  and  produce  only  works  without  artistic  value.  To 
build  Roman  columns  of  brick  or  wood  covered  with  stucco,  or  even 
of  low  courses  of  stone,  to  surmount  these  columns  with  lintels 
made  up  of  stone  facings  hung  upon  concealed  trusses  of  iron,  or 
applied  to  concealed  arches  of  brick,  in  order  to  avoid  the  expense 
of  those  long  blocks  of  granite  and  marble  which  the  classic  styles  re- 
quire, is  to  use  other  methods  than  the  classic,  which  we  imitate,  and 
to  substitute  an  absurd  and  ephemeral  falsehood,  whose  cost  is  not 
19 


290 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


justified  by  the  real  value  of  the  object  attained  ; more  than  this, 
it  is  a want  of  good  taste,  for  good  taste  in  art  consists  in  knowing 
how  most  gracefully  to  confess  the  truth. 

The  architects  of  the  lay  school  of  the  Middle  Ages,  notwithstand- 
ing the  tendency  which  has  at  all  times  been  manifested  by  our 
countrymen  for  show,  always  caused  the  form,  the  appearance,  to 
be  modified  by  the  materials  and  methods  they  employed.  They 
never,  moreover,  gave  to  the  saloon  of  a château  the  appearance 
of  a church,  to  a hospital  the  aspect  of  a palace,  to  a city  house  the 
outside  of  a country  house  ; everything  was  adapted  to  its  place  and 
actual  uses,  and  confessed  its  own  character  ; if  the  apartment  was 
spacious,  the  windows  were  large  ; if  small,  its  outer  apertures,  in 
character  and  size,-  were  fitted  to  the  area  to  which  they  admitted  air 
and  light  ; if  a building  was  divided  into  stories,  the  fact  was  ac- 
knowledged on  the  exterior.  In  short,  sincerity  was  one  of  the  most 
striking  qualities  of  early  Gothic  architecture  ; and  this  same 
quality  of  sincerity  is  one  of  the  essential  conditions  of  style  in  all 
arts,  and  also  one  of  the  conditions  of  economy  as  regards  expense. 
It  is  a singular  fact  that  these  lay  architects  were  so  bold  and  in- 
ventive in  their  construction  as,  at  length,  actually  to  go  beyond  the 
material  resources  at  their  disposal  ; they  preceded  the  industrial 
movement  of  their  time  ; they  wanted  the  practical  means  of  express- 
ing their  great  activity  of  theoretical  science  and  imagination.  But 
if  one  of  them  should  arise  from  his  grave  of  the  thirteenth  century 
to  look  upon  the  wonders  of  the  nineteenth,  while  he  would  be 
amazed  at  the  resources  of  our  industry,  he  could  not  but  see  that 
they  far  outstrip  our  capacity  for  using  them  ; if  the  art  of  his  time 
was  eager  to  profit  by  a great  industrial  development  which  it  sought 
for  in  vain,  the  pretended  respect  of  the  art  of  our  time  for  venerable 
doctrines  (which  no  one,  by  the  by,  has  taken  the  trouble  to  analyze) 
prevents  us  from  employing  the  means  which  abound  in  the  nine- 
teenth century.  The  result  of  this  state  of  things  is  the  isolation 
of  the  modern  artist  ; instead  of  appropriating  and  eagerly  anticipat- 
ing the  inventive  activity  of  the  day,  he  holds  himself  aloof,  exclu- 
sive in  his  knowledge  of  ancient  precedent,  bigoted  in  his  respect  for 
ancient  authority  ; he  tortures  the  discoveries  of  modern  science,  which 
are  imposed  upon  him  by  the  spirit  of  the  age,  in  order  to  make 
them  subservient  to  the  forms  and  fashions  which,  in  his  blind 
creed,  have  been  declared  immutable  and  sacred  ; he  adapts  the  new 


ADAPTABILITY  OP  GOTHIC. 


291 


idea  to  the  old  form,  instead  of  modifying  the  old  form  to  obtain  the 
full  advantages  of  the  new  idea. 

The  modern  architect  is  too  often  unwilling  to  create  beauty  out 
of  the  means  which  are  furnished  him  by  the  age,  and  then  com- 
plains that  the  age  has  lost  the  taste  for  beauty  ; he  complains  that 
the  engineers,  for  example,  intrench  upon  the  domain  of  art,  without 
ever  succeeding  in  the  production  of  works  of  art,  yet  he  studiously 
refrains  from  dropping  his  superannuated  routines  and  from  placing 
his  artistic  intelligence  and  training  at  the  service  of  the  new  and 
practical  requirements  of  the  day.  I admit  that  all  the  architects 
do  not  thus  hold  themselves  aloof  from  progress,  and  that  the  most 
numerous  defenders  of  these  exclusive  doctrines  touching  architecture 
are  in  the  very  imposing  body  of  amateurs  ; for  every  one  likes  to 
think  himself  somewhat  of  an  architect;  which  fact,  indeed,  very 
much  honors,  but  somewhat  injures  the  art.  But  I am  persuaded 
that  those  architects  who,  avoiding  scholastic  prejudices  and  vulgar 
opinions,  would  take  the  broadest  ground  and  reason  about  their 
work  as  our  mediaeval  predecessors  reasoned,  would  before  very  long 
succeed  in  substituting  a more  healthy  architecture  for  that  now 
prevailing.  In  the  end,  reason  must  always  get  the  upper  hand  ; 
I say,  in  the  end. 

The  lay  school  of  the  thirteenth  century  produced  a true  archi- 
tecture, because  it  was  pliable  to  all  the  uses  of  architecture,  its 
principles  being  based  upon  reason,  which  is  elastic,  and  not  upon 
form,  which  is  tyrannical  and  unbending.  Prejudices  of  form  never 
laid  their  incubus  upon  the  builders  who  erected  such  a prodigious 
quantity  of  churches,  palaces,  châteaux,  and  civil  and  military  works 
in  the  thirteenth  century;  and  yet,  with  all  this  freedom,  there  is  not 
the  smallest  fragment  belonging  to  this  epoch  which  does  not  bear 
the  indisputable  stamp  of  its  origin  and  time. 

It  should  be  understood  that  it  is  impossible  to  separate  the  form 
of  the  architecture  of  this  epoch  from  its  structure  ; every  member 
was  the  result  of  a constructional  necessity,  just  as,  in  the  vegetable 
and  animal  kingdom,  there  is  no  phenomenon,  no  individuality, 
which  is  not  the  result  of  an  organic  necessity  ; however  many  kinds, 
species,  or  varieties  there  may  be,  the  botanist  and  the  anatomist  are 
never  at  a loss  about  the  function,  place,  age,  or  origin  of  any  separate 
organ  which  they  may  undertake  to  analyze.  But  we  may  deprive 
a Roman  monument  of  all  its  decoration,  we  may  remove  its  appar- 


292 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


ent  form  without  any  prejudice  to  its  structure,  or,  on  the  other  hand 
(as  has  been  done  at  the  Roman  Pantheon,  for  example,)  we  can 
clothe  a Roman  structure  with  a decorative  form  which  has  no  neces- 
sary and  intimate  relation  with  it.  But  it  is  impossible  to  remove 
from  an  edifice  of  the  thirteenth  century  or  to  attach  to  it  any  decora- 
tive form  without  injury  to  its  solidity,  its  wholeness,  its  organism,  if 
1 may  so  express  myself.  This  principle,  so  easy  to  comprehend, 
and  concerning  which  any  one,  on  examination,  can  satisfy  himself 
with  a little  care,  proves  to  us  that,  notwithstanding  its  apparent 
complication,  the  art  of  the  thirteenth  century  was  constituted  in 
direct  obedience  to  the  necessities  of  construction.  This  very  quality 
of  Gothic  architecture  has  been  made  a subject  of  reproach  against 
it  ; thus  it  is  sometimes  said,  “ Show  us  the  form,  the  order  of  archi- 
tecture in  this  style,  give  us  the  rules  which  govern  this  form  ; we 
see  the  construction,  but  prove  to  us  that  the  form  is  not  a pure 
fancy  of  the  artists,  the  mere  vagary  of  their  capricious  imaginations.” 
To  this  I would  reply  : “ This  form  is  not  the  result  of  caprice,  since 
it  is  the  expression  (the  decorated  expression,  if  you  please)  of  the 
construction  ; it  is  impossible  to  give  any  absolute  rules  governing 
this  form,  as  its  peculiar  quality  is  to  lend  itself  to  all  the  necessities 
of  construction.  Impose  upon  me  a definite  construction,  and  I will 
find  for  you  naturally  the  forms  which  should  result  from  it  ; but  if 
you  change  the  construction,  the  forms  also  must  be  changed,  not  in 
their  spirit,  for  this  spirit  consists  simply  in  expressing  the  construc- 
tion faithfully,  but  in  their  appearance,  which  is  varied  according  to 
the  new  practical  conditions  of  the  problem.” 

I admit  that  all  this  would  be  too  subtle  for  a Roman,  who 
would  find  it  much  more  convenient  to  dictate  the  structure,  and  to 
leave  its  show  to  the  decorators,  without  concerning  himself  to  know 
whether  this  show  was  a frank  acknowledgment  of  the  construction 


or  not.  Yet  we  cannot  regard  as  bad  that  method  which  proceeds 
from  an  entirely  different  basis,  and,  in  an  art  so  serious  as  architec- 
ture, undertakes  to  make  the  visible  form  subordinate  to  the  neces- 
sities of  the  construction  and  the  programme.  It  is  worthy  of  note 
that  this  intimate  alliance  between  the  appearance  and  the  structure 
is  not  only  appreciated  by  artists  and  men  of  culture,  but  it  satisfies 
the  eyes  of  the  multitude,  because  their  eyes  have  an  instinctive 
logic.  Thus,  in  Greek  architecture,  an  order  in  which  all  the  mem- 
bers fulfil  a useful  and  necessary  function  satisfies  the  eyes  even  of 


ALLIANCE  OF  FORM  WITH  STRUCTURE. 


293 


those  who  are  entirely  ignorant  of  the  necessities  imposed  upon  it  by 
the  laws  of  statics.  In  the  same  manner,  cross-vaultings  reciprocally 
abutting  against  each  other  and  referring  their  resultant  pressure  to 
a slender  column,  as  in  the  refectory  of  St.  Martin-des-Champs,  for 
example,  satisfy  the  eye,  because,  without  understanding  how  mutual 
thrusts  of  vaults  obtain  a neutral  result,  any  one  can  instinctively 
comprehend  that  this  column  can  be  safely  slender,  since,  as  its  duty 
is  merely  to  present  a point  of  resistance  to  neutralized  thrusts,  a 
rigid  vertical  line  alone  is  necessary. 

A few  examples  will  suffice,  I hope,  to  make  it  intelligible  to  all 
that  the  lay  school  of  the  twelfth  century  was  made  up  of  men  who 
were  not  only  subtle  reasoners  and  skilful  geometers,  but  were  emi- 
nently endowed  with  those  delicate  qualities  which  we  all  recognize 
among  Greek  architects.  I have  just  said  that  the  eye  has  an  instinc- 

Fig.  49. 


five  logic  ; I refer  to  eyes  which  see  without  prejudice,  — the  eyes  of 
the  public,  in  fact.  It  is  a singular  phenomenon  that  what  we  are 
accustomed  to  call  “ illusions  of  the  eye  ” are  but  instinctive  pre- 
monitions of  certain  natural  laws  confirmed  by  scientific  observation, 
as  if  God  had  endowed  the  human  eye  with  the  faculty  of  intuitively 
foreseeing  that  which  reason  presently  imposes  as  a law.  And  why 
should  not  our  eyes  be  provided  with  a particular  instinct,  like  our 
conscience,  which,  before  the  existence  of  law,  possessed  the  senti- 
ment of  justice  and  injustice,  good  and  evil  ? 

Thus,  for  example  (Fig.  49),  we  construct  a wooden  truss  A,  com- 


294 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


posed  of  a tie-beam  and  two  principal  rafters,  that  is  to  say,  a primi- 
tive truss.  In  construction,  tliis  tie-beam,  however  straight  and 
horizontal  it  may  be  in  reality,  will  appear,  by  a common  optical 
illusion,  to  bend  downward  in  the  middle.  But  if  I place  a king- 
post B,  suspending  the  centre  of  the  tie-beam  to  the  apex  of  the 
roof,  the  illusion  disappears,  and  the  expedient,  which  I have  em- 
ployed as  a precautionary  measure,  to  prevent  the  sagging  of  the  tie- 
beam,  satisfies  the  doubt  of  the  eye.  This  illusion  then  has  warned 
me  of  the  real  weak  point  in  my  truss  ; it  has  prompted  me  to  find 
ont  the  only  means  by  which  the  difficulty  can  be  avoided  ; the  illu- 
sion provoked  the  investigation  of  that  which  experience  demon- 
strates to  be  a law.  But  let  us  proceed  to  more  delicate  examples. 

Fig.  50.  Fig.  51. 


If,  in  Big.  50,  I construct  a perfectly  vertical  pier,  and  if  to  the 
flank  of  this  pier  at  C I communicate  the  thrust  of  a vault,  the  arc 
C D will  cause  the  pier  to  seem  to  bend  inward  at  the  point  of 
thrust  C,  especially  if,  at  A,  I have  another  arc  which  operates  to 


OCULAE  INSTINCT  IN  DESIGN. 


295 


thrust  the  summit  of  the  pier  outward.  This  is  an  illusion  ; but  this 
illusion,  which  disturbs  my  eye,  prompts  me  to  devise  an  expedient 
at  the  point  of  inward  thrust  C which  shall  destroy  the  unpleasant 
effect.  To  increase  excessively  the  thickness  of  the  pier  A B would 
be  a certain  means  of  obtaining  this  end,  but  I do  not  wish  to 
give  to  this  pier  more  thickness  than  is  necessary.  1 investigate  the 
matter,  therefore,  and  I find  the  combination  in  Fig.  51  adopted  by 
the  architects  of  the  twelfth  century.  By  means  of  this  interruption 
of  the  vertical  lines  at  the  height  of  the  springing  of  the  lateral 
arc  A B,  the  illusion  is  destroyed  ; the  pier,  though  in  reality  lighter, 
seems  not  only  vertical,  but  more  powerful  than  the  other,  which 
arose  without  interruption.  Now,  my  experience  proves  to  me  that 
this  optical  illusion  was  but  a premonition  of  a law  of  statics  which 
I must  discover  and  obey.  The  fact  is  that  the  resultant  of  the 
thrusts  of  the  arcs  A B is  destroyed  by  the  vertical  weight  A C, 
acting  upon  the  line  A H.  Now,  having  a flying  buttress  C 1), 
which  cancels  the  outward  thrust  of  the  high  vault,  the  equilibrium 
of  the  two  forces  thus  combined  results  in  a vertical  bearing,  which 
augments  that  of  the  intrinsic  weight  of  the  pier  A C.  • All  the 
thrusts  are  thus  concentrated  in  a vertical  line  running  down  the 
axis  of  the  column  E,  whose  diameter  I am  authorized  to  diminish 
to  the  point  of  its  capacity  to  bear  the  specified  vertical  weight. 
Now,  as  the  springing  of  the  arches  which  uphold  the  wall  G and 
of  the  three  ribs  (one  transverse  and  two  diagonal)  which  consti- 
tute the  lateral  vault,  besides  the  direct  perpendicular  bearing  of  the 
pier  which  sustains  the  high  vault,  all  have  to  rest  upon  the  capital 
A,  I am  compelled  to  give  to  the  abacus  of  this  capital  a large 
bearing  surface.  I compose  this  capital,  therefore,  with  a view  to  this 
important  function  ; it  must  be  strong,  broad,  and  solid  ; its  profile 
must  indicate  the  duties  it  has  to  perform,  its  ornaments  must  be 
robust  in  character,  and,  instead  of  cutting  into  the  mass  of  the 
capital  and  thus  weakening  it,  should  be  contrived  to  furnish  it 
with  actual  reinforcements  at  the  points  where  it  is  charged  with 
the  superior  weights. 

On  account  of  the  principle  of  elasticity  which  constitutes  my  con- 
struction, the  column  can  even  be  moved  aside  from  the  vertical  line, 
without  any  inconvenient  results,  precisely  because  it  has  been  re- 
duced to  a safe  minimum  of  bearing  surface,  so  that  any  slight 
oblique  movement,  which  might  take  place,  by  the  settling  of  the 


29G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


masses  of  construction  above,  would  not  be  so  apt  to  break  off  the 
edges  of  its  base  or  capital,  as  if  the  column  were  thicker  and  less 
able  to  yield  to  the  accidental  pressure.  By  means  of  the  projections 
of  my  capitals  and  of  the  supplementary  corbels  H,  where  necessary, 
I have  gathered  together  in  the  axes  of  the  lower  columns  the  result- 
ants of  the  combinations  of  thrusts  in  the  upper  vaulting,  and  these 
projections  and  corbels,  far  from  destroying  that  aspect  of  solidity 
which  the  eye  requires,  confer  upon  my  construction  a character  of 
robustness,  and  my  ornamentation  and  profiles  are  composed  so  as 
to  aid  the  effect  resulting  more  directly  from  the  general  structure.* 


Fig.  52. 


If  we  construct  a façade  whose  two  extreme  lateral  lines  are  per- 
fectly vertical,  this  façade,  Avhen  constructed,  will  be  apt  to  seem 
larger  at  the  summit  than  at  the  base  (see  Fig.  52)  ; this  also  is  an 
illusion,  and  one  most  offensive  to  the  eye.f  The  Greeks,  therefore, 

* See,  for  the  most  ample  details  concerning  these  kinds  of  constructions,  in  the  “ Diet,  rai- 
sonné d’Arch.,”  the  word  Construction. 

t The  former  western  facade  of  the  church  of  St.  Denis.  We  can  see  the  same  difficulty  in 
some  façades  belonging  to  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century,  as  in  that  of  the  church  of  Notre 
Dame  de  Mantes,  for  example. 


OCULAR  INSTINCT  IN  DESIGN. 


297 


whose  senses  were  cultivated  to  the  last  degree  of  perfection,  were 
always  careful,  in  the  façades  of  their  monuments,  to  incline  the 
extreme  lateral  lines  inward.  In  constructing  the  peristyles  of  their 
temples,  they  were  not  content  to  give  to  the  angle-columns  the 
normal  inward  inclination  of  all  the  others,  hut,  as  indicated  in  an 


Fig.  53. 


exaggerated  manner  in  Pig.  53,  they  gave  them  an  especial  inclina- 
tion. They  also  increased  the  diameter  of  these  angle-columns,  and, 
as  has  been  elsewhere  noted,  narrowed  the  intercolumniation  A B, 
knowing  that  these  angles,  which  would  almost  always  be  seen  diag- 


Fig.  54. 


onally,  would  be  detached  against  the  sky  or  some  luminous  back- 
ground, and  that  the  light  admitted  thus  around  the  angle-column 


298 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


would  seem  to  enlarge  the  voids  at  the  expense  of  the  solids.  ' Thus, 
guided  by  a very  delicate  instinct  of  the  eye,  they  anticipated  a law 
of  statics.  In  the  same  manner,  when  they  pierced  a wall  with  an 
aperture  whose  background  would  be  dark,  as  in  windows  or  doors 
seen  from  without,  if  the  jambs  were  made  vertical  (Fig.  54),  the 
Opening  would  appear  larger  at  the  summit  than  at  the  base  ; so, 
to  cancel  this  illusion,  the  Greek  architects  adopted  the  same  expe- 
dient here  and  inclined  their  jambs  inward  (Fig.  55),  thus  not  only 
satisfying  another  instinct,  that  the  same  width  is  not  required  at  the 
upper  part  of  a door  as  at  the  lower,  but  anticipating  the  statical  law 
that  the  bearing  of  a lintel  supporting  a great  weight  over  a void 
should  be  diminished  as  far  as  practicable. 


Fig.  55. 


The  architects  of  the  twelfth  century*,  though  adopting  forms  of 
architecture  and  systems  of  construction  very  different  from  those 
of  the  Greeks,  were  directed  by  similar  instincts.  They  always 
diminished  their  facades  towards  the  summit,  not  by  inclinations 
of  lines,  which  are  inadmissible  except  where  monostyles  are  em- 
ployed, as  in  Greek  angle-columns  and  jambs,  but  by  a successive 
retreating  of  vertical  lines  as  in  the  offsets  of  their  buttresses  which 
were  built  up  with  low  courses  of  stone.  In  the  primitive  apertures 
of  the  Greeks  (Fig.  55),  the  jambs  were  two  long  blocks  of  stone 


GREEK  AND  GOTHIC  DOORWAYS. 


21)9 


standing  on  end  and  slightly  inclined  towards  each  other,  and  the 
lintel  laid  across  their  summits  was  necessarily  a single  and  thicker 
stone;  the  two  upright  pieces  were  provided  each  with  a tenon 
on  the  upper  bearing-surface  (see  A in  Fig.  55)  fitting  into  a cor- 
responding mortise-hole  on  the  under  surface  of  the  lintel,  which  was 
made  longer  than  the  upper  diameter  of  the  aperture,  in  order  that 
the  mortise-hole  at  each  end  might  be  sunk  into  the  stone  without 
weakening  it  at  points  where  strength  was  most  necessary  ; hence  the 
crossette,  the  ears,  of  the  lintel  of  the  Greek  aperture.  The  architects 
of  the  twelfth  century  made  their  jambs  not  of  a single  stone,  but 
in  many  superimposed  courses,  the  level  lintels,  however,  of  course, 
remaining  a single  block  in  all  cases.  Now,  these  architects,  retrain- 
ing from  imitation  of  the  Roman  door  with  its  architraves,  which  was 
but  a vulgar  and  misunderstood  tradition  of  the  Greek  door,  rea- 
soned like  the  Greeks,  and,  wishing  to  diminish  the  bearing  of  their 
lintels,  they  built  up  their  jambs  vertically  and  relieved  the  bearing 
of  the  lintel  by  means  of  corbels,  projecting  from  the  upper  course, 
as  indicated  in  Fig.  56;*  and,  to  be  still  more  certain  that  the 
lintel  should  not  break  under  the  heavy  weight  of  masonry  which 
they  proposed  to  lay  upon  it,  they  built  above  it  a discharging  arch, 
leaving  thus  both  jambs  and  lintel  free,  and  relieved  of  all  unneces- 
sary weight.  The  Greek  relieved  his  lintel  by  diminishing  the 
aperture  at  its  summit,  and  by  corbelling  inward  the  successive 
courses  of  masonry  above,  leaving  only  two  or  three  stones  to  bear 
directly  on  it;  the  architect  of  the  twelfth  century  relieved  his  lintel 
by  diminishing  its  bearing  with  the  aid  of  two  corbels  under  it, 
and  by  building  over  it  a discharging  arch.  The  same  instinct 
prompted  and  the  same  law  followed  in  both  cases,  but  with  a total 
difference  of  principle  in  application  and  of  form  in  result.  Each 
architect  followed  the  same  inspiration  of  Ins  delicate  nature,  and 
each  arrived  at  results  which,  though  opposed  in  form,  were  in  the 
main  identical. 

We  have  seen  with  what  care  the  Greeks  managed  effect,  how 
thoroughly  they  comprehended  what  we  call  the  picturesque,  and 
how,  by  refinement  of  conception  and  delicacy  of  execution,  they 
reached  the  very  summit  of  art  ; we  have  seen  what  a feeling  they 
had  for  lines,  and  how  this  feeling  was  expressed  by  a very  subtle 
and  very  fine  study  of  natural  laws  and  of  the  instinctive  desires 

* Lateral  door  of  the  façade  of  the  cathedral  of  Senlis  ; close  of  the  twelfth  century. 


300 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  the  eye.  These  same  qualities  we  find  in  the  French  school  of 
the  twelfth  century,  with  less  simplicity  in  means  and  less  grandeur 
in  results,  but  with  somewhat  of  the  immeasurable  audacity  of 
modern  times. 

Fig.  56. 


The  Greek  architect,  in  designing,  always  sacrificed  the  apparent 
grace  of  his  geometrical  studies  to  what  he  foresaw  would  be  their 
perspective  effect  when  executed.  Fie  knew  that  the  angles  of  his 
edifices,  always  seen  obliquely  and  from  accidental  points  of  view, 
were  the  parts  which  required  the  most  study,  as  those  most  affecting 


Fig.  57- 


. 


THE  CARYATIDES  OE  THE  PANDROSEUM. 


301 


the  outline  and  general  exterior  character  of  his  composition.  Thus, 
a geometrical  elevation  of  the  little  Pandroseum,  annexed  to  the 
Erectheum  at  Athens  (Fig.  57),  presents  an  enormous  entablature 
which  seems  to  crush  the  supporting  caryatides,  and  the  stylobate 
appears  bare;  but,  if  we  examine  this  monument  in  execution,  the 
supporting  figures  at  once  assume  such  an  importance  by  reason 
of  the  firmness  and  purity  of  their  sculpture,  they  bear  the  superin- 
cumbent weight  with  so  much  ease  and  majesty,  that  what  we  con- 
sider the  disproportionate  quantity  of  the  entablature  disappears,  and 
all  the  parts  fall  into  their  places  and  take  just  their  due  share  in  the 
general  harmony  of  the  composition.  The  statuary  is  so  treated  that 
even  columns  would  seem  less  capable  of  doing  the  duty  which  they 
perform  with  so  much  grace  and  dignity.  Now,  let  us  suppose  that 
the  architect  of  the  Pandroseum  had  not  been  endowed  with  so  per- 
fect a knowledge  of  effect,  and  that  he  had  carried  the  angles  of  his 
portico  on  two  pilasters,  using  the  caryatides  only  as  intermediate 
points  of  support  ; lie  would  certainly  have  been  sound  and  irre- 
proachable as  regards  construction  in  so  doing,  but  he  would  have 
obtained  a very  commonplace  profile  instead  of  that  bold  but  refined 
line  which  the  angle  caryatid  makes  against  the  sky  ; he  would  not 
have  attracted  the  eye,  and  his  monument  would  have  left  no  trace 
upon  the  memory.  An  architect,  under  the  dominion  of  those  vulgar 
rules  which  are  mistaken  in  modern  times  for  classic  tradition,  would 
never  have  dared  to  present  the  angle  caryatides,  and,  more  espe- 
cially, those  on  the  returns  of  the  portico,  facing  towards  the  front  ; 
he  would  have  turned  those  on  the  angles  so  as  to  look  outward 
diagonally,  and  would  have  posed  those  on  the  returns  in  such  a 
manner  that  their  faces  would  be  towards  the  outside  and  their 
backs  towards  the  inside  of  the  portico.  To  lay  an  entablature  on 
a statue  in  profile  would  be  au  enormity  indeed  ! But,  apart  from 
the  execution  of  this  little  structure  (and  the  execution  is  admirable), 
the  whole  merit  of  the  composition  resides  in  the  simple,  poetical 
conception  of  six  figures,  moving  forward,  as  it  were,  with  the  same 
intent,  bearing  a canopy  upon  their  heads.  There  is  a calmness 
in  their  attitude  appropriate  to  the  serious  duty  they  are  performing 
as  supports,  and  a unity  of  movement,  a living  idea  in  the  whole 
structure,  which  at  once  recommends  itself  to  the  imagination. 

But  it  would  be  au  error  to  suppose  that  the  Greeks,  in  their  archi- 
tectural compositions,  suffered  themselves  to  be  guided  by  their  artis- 


302 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


tic  instincts  alone  ; for  we  can  always  discover  a profound  reason  in 
everything  they  did.  Tims,  in  this  portico  of  the  Pandrosenm,  we 
observe  that  the  four  anterior  figures  are  posed,  the  two  on  the  left 
leaning  on  the  right  leg,  and  the  two  on  the  right  leaning  on  the  left 
leg.  The  statues,  taken  here  as  supporting  members,  till  exactly  the 
function  of  the  angle  columns  of  the  portico  in  Tig.  53,  which  refer 
all  the  pressures  towards  the  centre  of  the  edifice.  But  let  us  sup- 
pose that  the  architect  and  sculptor,  employed  in  erecting  this  struc- 

Fig.  58. 


B 


ture,  had  not  been  united  by  the  same  thought  ; that  the  sculptor 
had  worked  apart  from  the  architect,  as  often  happens  to-day,  and, 
instead  of  disposing  the  figures  as  indicated  in  Tig.  58,  at  A,  that  is 


ANALOGIES  BETWEEN  GREEK  AND  GOTHIC  THOUGHT.  303 


to  say,  hipped  outward,  lie  had  arranged  them  indifferently  or  in  an 
alternate  order,  as  indicated  in  13,  the  entablature  would  no  longer 
seem  to  be  carried  with  ease,  and  the  little  editice  would  appear  ready 
to  fall  in  pieces. 

While  the  architects  of  the  Renaissance  and  those  of  Louis  XIV., 
although  they  pretended  to  draw  all  their  inspiration  from  the  an- 
tique, never  suspected  the  existence  of  these  great  rules  of  art,  estab- 
lished as  they  were  on  a well-reasoned  sentiment  of  truth,  we  can  find 
these  rules  habitually  applied  by  the  architects  of  the  best  mediæval 
epoch,  although  of  course  in  their  own  manner.  But  neither  these 
architects  nor  those  of  the  Renaissance  ever  attained  that  repose  and 
serenity  which  is  shed  over  everything  from  the  hands  of  the  Greek. 

I know  not  how  the  Greek  architects  would  have  treated  the  angles 
of  very  lofty  structures,  composed  of  several  stories,  to  give  them  a 
happy  outline  ; we  have  every  reason  to  suppose  that  they  would 
have  taken  hold  of  the  problem  with  their  characteristic  sagacity  and 
would  have  supplied  us  with  examples  full  of  instruction  ; but  if  we 
examine  our  great  monuments  of  the  French  school,  we  shall  find 
in  the  composition  of  their  angles  qualities  analogous  to  those  dis- 
played by  the  Greek  artists  on  a more  limited  field  ; we  shall  find 
that  the  mediæval  motives  were  inspired  by  a natural  instinct  not 
less  delicate  and  a habit  of  observation  not  less  refined.  It  is  easy 
to  see  that  the  mediæval  architects  were  preoccupied  with  the  ne- 
cessity of  sustaining  their  angles  by  bold  and  well-relieved  compo- 
sitions so  composed  as  to  force  themselves  upon  the  observation  and 
memory  of  the  beholder  ; but,  in  this  emergency,  as  in  all  others, 
reason  was  in  full  understanding  with  sentiment.  We  must  not 
forget,  in  the  first  place,  that  these  architects  possessed  strong  and 
hard  stone  for  building,  but  that  this  stone  could  only  be  extracted 
from  the  quarry  in  comparatively  thin  layers  ; they  had  at  their 
disposition  neither  Pentelic  marble,  nor  the  granite  blocks  which  the 
Romans  obtained  from  Corsica,  the  Alps,  or  the  East.  Necessity 
required  from  the  mediæval  architects  large  structures,  and  from  the 
Greeks  small  structures  ; but  necessity  also  required  that  the  former 
structures  should  be  built  up  in  low  courses  of  masonry,  and  the  latter 
constructed  with  enormous  blocks.  These  differences  of  conditions 
naturally  had  their  influence  on  all  the  forms  given  to  architecture, 
even  in  tlieir  vertical  lines.  The  artist  instinctively  felt  that  a ma- 
sonic wall  of  low  courses  of  stone,  whatever  might  be  the  firmness 


304 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  these  courses  and  the  thickness  of  the  supporting  members,  would 
not  present  those  sure  and  rigid  lines  which  the  eye  requires  in  the 


Fig.  59. 


construction.  Ills  aim  then  was  to  obtain,  especially  for  the  angles, 
pure  lines  to  define  his  general  profiles  more  strictly.  So,  as  indi- 


GOTHIC  DEVICES  FOE  RIGID  MASONRY. 


305 


cated  in  Fig.  59,  he  inserted  into  this  angle  a monolithic  column,  so 
isolating  it  from  the  surrounding  masonry  as  to  add  to  the  apparent 
strength  of  the  angle.  In  very  lofty  edifices,  composed,  consequently, 
of  a great  many  courses,  this  fashion  of  placing  dressed  stones  on  edge 
in  the  angles,  thus  obtaining  rigid  lines  of  support,  had  not  only  the 
advantage  of  satisfying  a requirement  of  the  eye,  but  actually  stiffened 
the  angles  and  relieved  them  from  the  task  of  apparently  bearing 
more  than  their  share  of  the  superincumbent  masonry  by  referring 
any  settling  which  might  take  place  to  the  middle  of  the  wall-front; 
in  this  the  mediæval  architect  reasoned  like  the  Greeks,  when  they 
diminished  the  opening  of  their  apertures  at  the  summit  and  inclined 
their  angle  columns  towards  the  interior. 

Whether  by  an  artistic  instinct,  whether  his  eye  prompted  him  be- 
fore his  reason  intervened,  or  his  reason  before  his  eye,  the  lay  archi- 
tect of  mediæval  France  always  employed  and  combined  stones  on 
end  and  stones  in  courses  with  remarkable  address,  both  as  regards 
motives  of  decoration  and  means  of  construction.  lie  comprehended 
that  if,  by  means  of  hard  stones  laid  up  on  edge,  he  could  stay  a high 
wall  built  with  low  courses  and  consequently  subject  to  settlings  and 
to  deviations  from  the  plumb-line,  he  could  give  to  his  buildings  a 
perfect  stability,  without  the  necessity  of  using  enormous  masses  of 
material  ; that  if  he  could  substitute,  in  the  mass  of  a wall,  points  of 
support  instead  of  surfaces  of  support,  he  could  obtain  equal  stability 
without  the  necessity  of  encumbering  the  ground  with  buttresses  or 
thick  walls.  Let  us  suppose  that  we  have  to  build  an  isolated  wall, 
thirty  feet  high,  of  brick  or  thin  courses  of  stone  or  rubble,  and  that 
we  cannot  make  it  more  than  a foot  thick  ; it  is  evident  that,  to  keep 
it  strictly  vertical,  we  must  strengthen  it  with  buttresses  ; but  we  are 
required  to  leave  the  space  at  the  foot  of  the  wall  free  from  such  pro- 
jections and  to  decorate  the  wall  ; there  is  but  one  method  left  of 
giving  stability  to  this  structure,  and  this  is  (Fig.  CO)  by  setting 
against  the  two  faces  and  opposite  to  each  other  columns  of  some 
very  compact  material,  like  cast-iron,  for  instance,  superposing  these 
columns  where  necessary,  retreating  the  upper  ones  a little,  uniting 
them  to  the  body  of  the  wall  by  intermediate  headers  or  bonds,  as  at 
A,  and  by  charging  their  summit,  B,  with  arches  thrown  from  one  to 
the  other.  It  is  certain  that  this  structure,  recommended  by  laws  of 
equilibrium  and  statics,  offers  a suggestive  motive  for  decoration. 

This  expedient  for  obtaining  stability  was  adopted,  but  timidly, 
20 


30G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


in  the  architecture  of  the  Lower  Empire  and  Byzantium.  But  it 
is  due  to  the  western  architects  that  it  was  finally  erected  into  a 
system.  Thus,  in  cathedral  towers,  like  those  of  Laon  or  Senlis, 
we  can  see  that  the  architects,  with  the  idea  of  giving  rigidity  to 
these  structures,  which  were  very  lofty  compared  to  the  area  of 
their  base,  stiffened  and  at  the  same  time  decorated  the  angles  with 
stones  on  end,  by  means  of  which  all  the  settling  of  the  wall  was  re- 


Fig.  60. 


ferred  towards  the  centre  of  the  wall-face.  The  architect  of  the  ba- 
silica of  Constantine  (Eig.  46)  did  not  evince  this  sound  common-sense, 
when  he  placed  his  rigid  point  of  support,  his  monolithic  column  of 
granite  or  marble,  under  the  springing  of  his  grand  vault.  This  col- 
umn would  have  been  much  better  placed  outside,  against  the  end  of 
the  buttresses  or  transverse  walls  ; for,  if  this  structure  had  not  been 


NOTRE  DAME  OE  PARIS. 


307 


an  enormous,  concrete,  homogeneous  mass,  much  stronger  than  neces- 
sary, if  the  vaults  had  admitted  any  settling  or  movement  at  all,  the 
point's  of  support  under  the  springings  of  the  vaults  not  being  com- 
pressible but  rigid,  the  movement  would  have  tended  to  throw  the 
whole  structure  outward,  since  it  was  more  compressible  in  that 
direction. 

Let  ns  admire  antiquity,  but  let  us  temper  our  admiration  with 
discretion  ; let  us  not  close  our  eyes  to  investigation  and  criticism, 
nor  commit  the  error  of  allowing  the  superiority  evinced  in  many 
respects  in  more  modern  times  to  pass  without  recognition.  There 
is  no  monument  better  fitted  to  illustrate  the  immense  differences 
which  separate  Roman  art  from  that  of  the  French  lay  school,  than 
the  façade  of  the  cathedral  of  Paris.  The  problem  being  to  erect  a 
building  which  should  surpass  in  size  all  others  in  the  city,  which 
should  fill  exactly  the  functions  of  a cathedral,  and  which,  as  such, 
should  have  both  a civil  and  religious  significance,  and  be,  in  short, 
a sort  of  political  manifestation,  it  would  be  scarcely  possible  to 
imagine  a composition  more  grand  in  general  effect,  better  reasoned 
in  construction,  or  more  skilfully  executed  in  detail.  Every  one 
knows  the  facade  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris  ; but  few  persons,  prob- 
ably, have  ever  realized  how  much  science  and  artistic  taste,  how 
much  painful  study  and  elaborate  care,  how  much  perseverance  and 
acquired  experience,  were  needed  to  build  up  that  colossal  pile  in  the 
space  of  at  most  ten  or  fifteen  years.  But  the  work  is  not  yet  fin- 
ished ; the  two  towers  should  be  terminated  by  two  spires  to  com- 
plete and  explain  the  carefully  studied  lines  of  the  lower  structure. 
Here,  certainly,  there  is  art,  and  very  high  art. 

It  is  necessary  to  place  before  the  eyes  of  the  readers  of  these  Dis- 
courses a general  geometrical  elevation  of  this  facade,  though  no  such 
drawing  can  afford  any  just  idea  of  the  effect  produced  by  the  monu- 
ment itself  ; I must  refer  to  photography  to  supply  the  unavoidable 
deficiencies  of  a geometrical  drawing.  1 refer  to  this  façade,  because 
I have  just  spoken  of  how  the  angles  of  buildings  are  arranged  with 
a view  to  their  outline,  how  forms  are  modified  according  to  the 
instinct  of  the  eye,  how  stones  in  low  courses  and  stones  on  end  are 
simultaneously  employed,  not  only  to  stiffen  the  construction,  but 
to  relieve  the  monotony  of  horizontal  lines,  and  how  construction  and 
decoration  should  be  intimately  associated.  Nowhere  else  can  these 
various  qualities  be  found  in  a combination  more  complete,  more  ho- 


308 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


mogeneous,  and  better  reasoned  than  in  this  facade.  Observe,  in  the 
first  place,  that  the  architect  evinced  the  most  delicate  artistic  feeling 
and  a capacity,  rarely  exhibited  in  a building  of  such  very  great 
dimensions,  in  so  dividing  his  façade  by  great  horizontal  lines,  as  to 
obtain  an  effect  of  repose  and  dignity,  without  cutting  it  into  layers  ; 
and  in  so  treating  these  divisions  that,  although  they  present  spaces 
unequal  in  size,  richness,  and  character  of  detail,  they  nevertheless 
are  in  keeping  with  each  other  and  make  up  a perfect  unity.  This 
is  not  an  adventitious  accumulation  of  architectural  forms,  capable 
of  change,  modification,  or  even  suppression,  without  injury  to  the 
general  design,  such  as  we  see  in  many  Roman,  Byzantine,  and 
modern  monuments.  Each  one  of  these  divisions  exists  by  a neces- 
sity of  the  whole  composition  ; thus,  in  the  massive  basement,  there 
are  three  great  doors  with  their  wide  splays  and  sculptured  arches. 
To  unite  the  richness  of  these  three  doors,  and  to  relieve  the  naked- 
ness of  the  lines  of  the  intervening  buttresses,  four  canopies  project 
from  the  latter,  supported  on  little  monostyle  columns  and  covering 
four  colossal  statues,  yet  without  any  interruption  to  the  construc- 
tional lines  of  these  buttresses,  whose  outlines  are  recalled  by  the 
little  columns  which  appear  in  the  form  of  a luminous  line  on  either 
side  of  each  of  these  statues. 

Above  this  basement,  which,  notwithstanding  the  profusion  of 
sculpture  lavished  under  its  archways,  maintains  a grave  and  solid 
aspect,  an  open  gallery  or  portico  extends  along  the  entire  width 
of  the  facade,  composed  of  a range  of  monostyle  columns  with  large 
capitals  supporting  lintels  cut  in  the  form  of  open  trefoil  arches  ; 
in  each  intercolumniation  is  placed  the  colossal  statue  of  a king. 
Meanwhile,  the  architect  has  contrived  that  the  projection  of  his 
buttresses  should  still  remain  evident,  without  interrupting  the  hori- 
zontal lines  of  this  open  gallery,  which  forms  a belt  of  niches  across 
the  front,  of  great  firmness  of  composition  and  execution.  The  real 
dimensions  of  this  belt,  though  dwarfed  by  the  great  scale  of  the 
whole  façade,  are  made  appreciable  by  the  balustrade  which  sur- 
mounts it,  recalling  the  dimensions  of  a man.  Above  this,  the  four 
buttresses  are  continued,  gradually  receding  by  successive  stages  of 
offsets,  but  between  them  the  three  bays  of  the  front  fall  back  far 
enough  to  leave  a large  terrace  over  the  gallery  of  the  kings,  and 
to  aid  in  giving  to  this  gallery  a great  importance  as  a decorative 
line.  In  the  central  bay,  beneath  deep  full-centred  archivolts,  is 


NOTRE  DAME  OF  PARIS. 


309 


pierced  the  great  rose-window,  which  marks  the  central  nave  and  the 
height  of  the  interior  vault.  In  the  two  lateral  bays  are  double 
windows,  giving  light  to  the  principal  chambers  of  the  towers,  and 
brought  to  the  general  colossal  scale  of  the  edifice  by  being  grouped 
in  pairs  under  large  discharging  arches,  the  space  between  these 
arches  and  the  windows  ( spandrel ) being  occupied  in  each  group 
by  a small  blank  rose-window,  recalling  by  the  treatment  of  its 
tracery  the  character  of  the  central  rose.  This  story,  which  is  lower 
than  the  height  of  the  basement,  is  crowned  by  a great  cornice 
decorated  with  leaves,  which  returns  around  the  buttresses,  allow- 
ing them  to  disengage  themselves  boldly  from  the  general  mass 
of  the  wall.  Then  begins  the  construction  of  the  two  towers.  It 
is  at  this  point  that  the  genius  of  the  artist  may  be  especially  recog- 
nized. It  is  always  a difficult  task  to  disengage  two  towers,  that 
is  to  say,  two  thick,  solid  masses,  from  a façade,  presenting  a gen- 
eral plain  surface  to  the  eye.  The  level  battlement,  between  these 
two  towers,  leaves  an  unoccupied  void  over  the  centre  of  the  façade, 
at  a place  where  the  eye  demands,  on  the  contrary,  a solid  and 
dominant  point,  for  the  pyramidal  form  in  this  position  is  one  of 
the  instinctive  desires  of  the  eye,  because  it  is  this  which  indicates 
perfect  stability.  After  elevating  these  two  towers  thus  suddenly 
from  the  almost  square  mass  of  construction  below,  the  architect 
found  it  necessary  to  unite  them  above  the  main  cornice,  by  a 
high  open  arcade  or  gallery,  which,  like  the  gallery  below,  passes 
entirely  across  the  front,  and  is  composed  of  great  monostyle  col- 
umns, supporting  a rich  open  tracery,  and  crowned  by  a firm, 
projecting  cornice  and  a balustrade,  which  serves  to  suggest  the 
height  of  a man  and  to  impress  upon  the  mind  of  the  beholder 
the  real  height  of  the  arcade.  By  this  artifice,  the  architect  has 
relieved  the  abruptness  of  the  transition  between  the  solid  and  the 
void.  The  open  gallery,  in  passing  across  the  void  between  the 
two  bell-towers,  defines  itself  against  the  sky  and  against  the  gable 
of  the  nave  roof,  which  rises  behind,  and  may  be  seen  between  the 
columns  of  the  arcade  ; this  gallery  thus  serves  to  soften  the  harsh- 
ness of  the  lines  produced  by  the  void  ; it  is,  as  it  were,  a transition 
between  the  solid  mass  and  the  sky.  In  passing  in  front  of  the  two 
towers,  it  remedies  the  difficulty,  to  which  I have  referred,  of  detach- 
ing two  solid  masses  from  one  solid  mass,  by  bewildering  the  eye 
in  search  of  the  exact  point  of  demarcation.  This  gallery  makes 


310 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  the  facade  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris  a homogeneous  whole,  instead 
of  a façade  surmounted  by  two  separate  towers.  Forming  an  open 
portico  between  the  buttresses  and  in  front  of  the  intermediate  bays, 
this  arcade  passes  around  the  faces  of  the  buttresses  in  the  form  of  a 
tracery  laid  against  them  or  engaged  in  the  wall.  Here  is  another 
point  where  the  architect  has  given  evidence  of  a sure  taste  and  a 
profound  feeling  for  effect.  The  unity  of  the  horizontal  lines  and  the 
general  characteristics  of  the  gallery  must  be  maintained  across  the 
front  of  each  buttress,  but  the  perpendicular  lines  and  mass  of  the 
buttress  must  not  be  interrupted,  nor  must  it  be  thinned  or  ema- 
ciated by  any  decoration,  which,  by  cutting  into  it,  shall  destroy 
its  mass.  The  architect  had  to  bear  in  mind  also  that  the  angles 
of  these  buttresses  must  be  kept  pure  at  all  hazards,  as,  in  perspec- 
tive, they  were  to  define  themselves  in  profile  against  the  sky,  yet 
that  the  balustrade  above  the  gallery  must  be  so  managed  as  to  serve 
as  a continuous  means  of  communication  around  the  outside  of  each 
tower;  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  projecting  piers,  which  were  to 
define  the  angles  of  the  bell-tower,  must  be  continuous  with  the  but- 
tresses and  must  not  emerge  from  the  horizontal  line  of  the  gallery 
like  an  afterthought,  having  no  essential  connection  with  the  mass 
below.  To  fulfil  all  these  conditions  presented  difficulties  so  serious 
that  here  evidently  was  that  point  of  the  facade,  which,  on  account 
of  its  position  and  importance,  required  his  especial  study.  Fig.  61 
shows  how  the  architect  of  Notre  Dame  resolved  the  difficulties  of 
the  problem. 

The  monostyle  columns  of  the  gallery,  when  engaged  in  the  face 
of  the  buttress,  are  so  treated  as  to  dean  the  angles  of  the  masonry, 
if  I may  be  allowed  the  expression,  gratefully  relieving  its  horizontal 
lines  of  construction  without  concealing  them  ; the  open  tracery, 
which  is  richly  decorated  in  those  parts  of  the  gallery  between  the 
buttresses,  becomes,  when  it  is  attached  to  the  face  of  the  buttress, 
compact  and  more  severe,  and  participates  in  its  structure  ; to  pre- 
pare the  eye  for  the  projection  of  the  cornice  above,  which  is  bold,  in 
order  to  afford  a passage  around  the  tower  by  means  of  the  balcony 
which  crowns  the  cornice,  the  angle  above  each  corner  shaft  blossoms 
out  in  a sort  of  vegetation  ; and,  in  fine,  to  break  the  harshness  of  the 
outline  made  by  this  projection  of  the  balustrade  from  the  upright 
lines  of  the  angle-piers  of  the  tower,  and  to  obtain  a feature  of  transi- 
tion between  the  projections  and  retreats  of  this  profile,  animals  have 


Fig.  61. 


THE  SPIRES  OF  NOTRE  DAME. 


311 


been  sculptured  rearing  themselves  boldly  upright  on  the  angles  of 
the  balustrade. 

If  the  façade  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris  is  very  beautiful,  even  in  its 
present  unfinished  state,  it  must  be  seen  that  everything  is  so  well 
prepared  in  the  substructure  for  the  superstructure  of  the  stone  spires, 
that  their  absence  is  much  to  be  regretted.  As  at  present  existing, 
there  is,  in  the  construction  and  appearance  of  the  towers,  a supera- 
bundant strength  which  is  unjustifiable,  since  they  bear  no  weight. 
How  appropriate  would  be  the  position  and  character  of  the  angle- 
piers  of  the  towers  and  their  great  windows  with  their  masculine 
archivolts,  how  elegant  the  whole  present  superstructures,  which,  in 
themselves,  are  too  heavy  for  crowning  members,  if  the  two  spires 
arose  above  them,  and  fulfilled  their  splendid  promise  ! Plate  XIV. 
indicates  the  completion  of  this  façade,  without  pretending  to  present 
more  than  the  general  mass  so  far  as  the  spires  are  concerned.  In 
this  we  can  recognize  the  excellent  proportions  of  the  great  open  gal- 
lery, which  is  evidently  too  high  for  the  towers  alone,  and,  by  the 
emphasis  of  its  perpendicular  lines,  serves  as  a preparation  for  the 
grand  ascent  of  the  spires;  the  two  features  were  evidently  .studied 
together.  The  combination  presented  in  this  drawing  also  enables 
us  to  appreciate  that  the  crowning  of  the  tower-buttresses  at  their 
summits,  a crowning  apparently  feeble  and  meaningless  in  the  pres- 
ent unfinished  condition  of  the  structure,  would  in  reality  be  pecul- 
iarly appropriate  and  elegant  if  the  design  were  complete.  We  can 
see  how  gradually  the  composition  passes  from  the  horizontal  to  the 
pyramidal  line.  Cover  up  the  two  spires,  and  it  will  readily  be  per- 
ceived that  everything  in  the  present  substructure  is  but  a prepara- 
tion for  them.  And  if  from  the  examination  of  the  general  design 
we  pass  to  the  study  of  the  details,  every  builder  will  be  amazed  at 
the  innumerable  precautions  which  have  been  taken  in  the  con- 
struction, and  at  the  manner  in  which  the  prudence  of  the  prac- 
tical mechanic  has  been  united  to  the  boldness  of  the  artist,  full 
of  resources  and  imagination.  If  we  examine  the  profiles  and  the 
sculpture,  we  shall  find  indications  everywhere  of  a thoroughly 
understood  method,  of  principles  strictly  observed,  of  a perfect 
knowledge  of  effect,  a purity  of  style  unequalled  in  modern  art, 
an  execution  at  once  delicate  and  bold,  without  exaggeration  and 
impressed  with  all  the  beauty  that  serious  study  and  enthusiastic 
love  can  confer. 


312 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


Whence  did  these  artists  obtain  such  inspiration,  if  not  from  their 
own  inherent  sentiment  ? Where  else  could  they  have  learned  this 
art  of  producing  great  effects,  who  could  have  taught  them  these  new 
forms,  in  what  other  school  than  their  own  hearts  could  they  have 
acquired  this  brilliant  and  perfect  comprehension  of  the  management 
of  great  masses  ? 

There  is,  moreover,  expressed  in  the  façade  of  Notre  Dame  of 
Paris  a certain  quality  peculiar  to  the  architects  of  France,  when 
France  had  an  architecture  truly  her  own  ; this  is  variety  in  unity. 
Thus,  at  first  sight,  the  grand  portals  seem  symmetrical,  but  even 
here  this  artistic  love  of  variety  finds  subtle  expression  ; for  the  door 
on  the  left  does  not  resemble  that  on  the  right.*  The  north  tower 
(that  on  the  left)  is  sensibly  thicker  than  the  south  tower,  and  the 
tracery  of  the  grand  gallery  on  the  left  is  more  masculine  and  com- 
pact than  that  at  the  other  end  ; from  these  facts  we  are  justified  in 
concluding  that  the  two  stone  spires  should  present  points  of  con- 
trast in  detail,  while  they  should  offer  two  harmonious  and  balanced 
masses  in  general  effect.  There  is  the  same  evidence  here  as  in  other 
contemporary  structures  built  under  a single  impulse  and  without  in- 
terruption, that  the  architect  could  not  bring  himself  to  repeat  the 
same  detail  twice.  In  treating  his  two  towers  differently,  the  in- 
crease of  labor  he  thus  imposed  on  the  workmen  was  grateful  to 
them,  when  compared  with  the  mechanical  tediousness  of  producing 
two  such  colossal  masses  identical  in  every  respect.  Though  such 
points  of  difference  are  often  blamed  as  an  offence  against  absolute 
symmetry,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  this  desire  for  variety  wTas  spir- 
itual, and  gave  to  the  workman  a liberty  of  thought  which  prompted 
him  to  a perpetual  study  for  improvement,  to  an  emulation,  I may 
say,  which  is  in  singular  harmony  with  the  western  character.  This 
individuality  of  thought  and  labor  is  exhibited  perhaps  even  in  a 
more  marked  degree  in  the  fact  that,  although  all  the  capitals  of  an 
order  are  similar  in  mass,  they  vary  one  from  the  other.  Submit- 
ting himself  to  a general  rule  and  keeping  within  specified  limits, 
each  sculptor  has  expressed  his  own  individual  inspiration. 

In  conception,  Romanesque  art  was  far  from  attaining  the  magis- 

* The  right  door  is  mainly  made  up  of  fragments  of  sculpture  belonging  to  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury. It  would  seem  that,  in  rebuilding  the  façade  of  Notre  Dame,  the  architect  wished  to 
preserve  in  the  new  structure  the  most  beautiful  remains  of  the  old  one.  (See  “Description 
de  Notre-Dame,”  par  MM.  de  Guilhermy  and  Viollet-le-Due,  1856.  Bance. 


THE  CATHOLICITY  OF  THE  ARTS. 


313 


tral  grandeur  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris  ; and,  in  details,  it  was  still 
further  removed  from  the  perfection  of  form  expressed  by  the  lay 
artists.  The  lay  school,  in  fact,  may  be  regarded  as  a sort  of  reaction 
of  modern  ideas  against  traditions,  a vigorous  effort  towards  a new 
ideal  of  civilization,  that  is,  perfect  liberty  without  license. 

But  it  may  be  said  that  the  façade  of  the  cathedral  of  Paris  is 
a unique  example  in  Europe.  This  may  be  true  ; but  an  abundance 
of  examples  proves  nothing,  in  itself,  regarding  any  question  of  art. 
Although  there  is  but  one  Iliad,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that,  in 
the  domains  of  art  and  poetry,  there  cannot  be  an  entirely  isolated 
and  exceptional  masterpiece;  it  must  be  a recapitulation,  an  expres- 
sion of  the  prevalence  of  a certain  order  of  ideas.  It  is  one  of  the 
privileges  of  epochs  favorable  to  the  arts  to  be  able  to  group  harmo- 
niously in  a single  body  public  sentiments  and  prevailing  ideas.  AVe 
do  not  know  what  the  lay  architects  at  the  commencement  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  would  have  produced,  if  they  had  had  the  leisure  and 
means  to  build  other  monuments  as  important  as  the  façade  of  Notre 
Dame,  the  only  one  of  that  period  which,  although  even  now  incom- 
plete, arose  almost  uninterrupted  from  a single  impulse.  At  Laon, 
Senlis,  and  Amiens,  we  find  contemporaneous  architectural  concep- 
tions, which,  although  mutilated,  modified,  or  incomplete,  present  in 
each  case  especial  features  of  excellence. 

The  catholicity  of  the  arts  is  another  and  very  essential  characteris- 
tic of  every  favorable  epoch  ; that  is,  their  application  equally  to  the 
cottage,  to  the  palace,  to  the  opulent  metropolitan  cathedral,  and  to 
the  humble  village  church.  Thus  the  most  modest  Greek  construc- 
tion exhales  a perfume  of  art  as  rvell  as  the  richest  temple,  and 
the  little  houses  of  Pompeii,  built  of  rubble  or  brick,  are  as  much 
works  of  art  as  the  public  monuments  of  that  city.  But  an  epoch 
which  regards  art  as  a mere  matter  of  luxury,  an  appurtenance  of  the 
privileged  classes,  or  an  envelope  proper  only  for  certain  public 
monuments,  may  be  a well-administered  epoch,  but  it  does  not  pos- 
sess the  highest  element  of  civilization,  and  perhaps  one  of  the  most 
essential  qualities  of  public  tranquillity.  There  are  intellectual  en- 
joyments as  well  as  material  enjoyments,  and  the  former,  like  the 
latter,  when  they  become  exclusive  and  privileged,  create  envy  and 
ill  feeling.  If  but  a few  know  how  to  read,  the  ignorant  crowd, 
when  it  chances  to  get  the  upper  hand,  burns  books  with  as  much 
passion  as  it  burns  sumptuous  chateaus,  where  all  the  material  pleas- 


314 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


lires  of  life  are  brought  together.  If  everybody  can  read,  books 
will  accumulate  and  remain  uninsulted  upon  the  library  shelves.  In 
the  same  manner,  to  make  of  art  a matter  of  luxury  or  to  associate 
it  only  with  wealth  is  dangerous  alike  for  art  and  for  the  exclusive 
few  who  patronize  it.  It  is  important,  therefore,  to  render  art 
catholic,  and  to  restore  it  to  its  proper  intiuence  over  all  things  and 
its  proper  place  everywhere  ; it  is  important  that  the  minds  of 
all,  and  of  artists  more  especially,  should  be  penetrated  with  the 
truth  that  art,  in  architecture,  does  not  consist  in  the  employment 
of  precious  marbles  or  in  the  accumulation  of  ornaments,  but  in 
distinction  of  form,  in  the  most  graceful  and  most  honest  way  of 
doing  practical  things  ; for  it  costs  no  more  in  money,  although  it 
may  in  thought,  to  cut  stones  or  to  lay  bricks  according  to  judi- 
cious principles  and  with  a proper  regard  for  aesthetic  proprieties, 
than  to  cut  and  lay  them  without  duly  considering  the  place  they  are 
to  occupy  in  the  building  and  the  part  they  are  to  bear  in  its  general 
effect.  Now  the  art  of  the  lay  school  in  the  thirteenth  century  was 
essentially  democratic,  it  was  everywhere  and  in  everything  ; and  the 
villager  had  as  much  right  to  be  proud  of  his  little  church,  or  the 
country  gentleman  of  his  manor-house,  as  the  citizen  of  his  cathedral 
or  the  nobleman  of  his  palace. 

It  is  not  enough  for  the  modern  architect  to  admire  the  works  of 
the  past,  and  merely  to  copy  them  is  an  avowal  of  impotence  ; but 
he  must  comprehend  them  and  be  so  penetrated  with  their  spirit  as 
to  be  able  to  obtain  from  them  deductions  suited  to  the  present 
time  ; he  must  see  in  form  only  the  expression  of  an  idea.  A form 
which  admits  of  no  explanation,  or  which  is  a mere  caprice,  cannot 
be  beautiful,  and,  in  architecture,  every  form  which  is  not  inspired 
by  the  structure  ought  therefore  to  be  rejected.  Such  was  the  creed 
and  such  the  invariable  practice  of  the  French  lay  school,  especially 
in  its  earlier  developments,  and  it  is  in  the  most  humble  buildings 
that  the  application  of  this  creed  is  most  evident. 

Let  us  select  an  example  in  one  of  those  little  rubble-built  monu- 
ments of  Burgundy,  in  which  stone  was  employed  with  extreme 
economy  ; let  us  enter  the  village  church  of  Montréale.*  Here  we 
find  nothing  superfluous  ; the  architecture  is  the  construction  ; the 
walls  are  of  rubble,  and  the  piers  alone  of  cut  stone  : and  yet  we 

* A little  more  than  six  miles  from  A vallon.  The  church  of  Montréale  dates  from  the  end 
of  the  twelfth  century. 


I'l.AIV 


THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  PARIS. 


COMPLETION  OF  WEST  FRONT. 


THE  VILLAGE  CHURCH  OF  MONTRE  ALE. 


315 


behold,  in  this  simple  edifice,  an  art  full  of  elegance,  and  mouldings, 
which,  though  rare,  are  of  incomparable  beauty  and  cut  with  a per- 
fection equal  to  that  of  Greek  profiles  of  the  best  epoch.  The  sculp- 
ture, which  is  used  with  extreme  economy,  is  large  in  treatment,  and 
in  harmony  with  the  simplicity  of  the  whole  structure.  Let  us  ex- 
amine in  Fig.  02  one  of  the  aisle  piers,  a column  engaged  in  the  wall 


Fig.  62. 


a third  of  its  diameter,  bearing  the  transverse  arch  A of  the  vault. 
In  order  to  stop  the  longitudinal  and  diagonal  ribs  (B  and  C)  of  the 
vault,  the  architect  has  corbelled  out  the  pilaster  D in  profile,  and 


31G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


crowned  it  with  a continuation  of  the  abacus  of  the  capital  of  the 
column  ; he  felt  that  if  he  had  built  up  the  pilaster  D on  a plumb- 
line  dropped  from  the  point  E,  he  would  have  detracted  from  the 
value  of  his  column  and  would  have  employed  his  stone  uselessly. 
This  arrangement,  suggested  thus  by  sentiment  and  supported  by 
reason,  supplied  a motive  for  decoration.  The  profile  G of  the 
abacus  is  cut  so  as  to  produce  strong  horizontal  lines  of  light  and 
shade  in  the  interior,  where  the  light  is  necessarily  diffuse,  with- 
out detracting  from  the  solidity  of  a member  which  sustains  weight. 
Some  of  the  other  piers,  as  at  II,  are  square,  with  angles  chamfered 
so  as  not  to  interfere  with  circulation  when  the  building  is  crowded  ; 
observe  how  judicious  is  the  composition  of  the  bases  of  these  piers; 
how  happily,  from  the  square  plinth,  the  intermediate  plinth  I con- 
ducts to  the  polygonal  section  of  the  shaft  ; how  finely  profiled,  yet 
how  solid,  the  decorated  offsets  {claws)  K of  the  intermediate  plinths 
preparing  for  the  chamfers  above  ; and  how  perfectly  the  form  and 
the  construction  agree.  When  art  can  express  itself  with  conditions 
so  simple,  it  must  indeed  be  perfect  and  full  of  instruction. 

I should  be  led  far  beyond  the  proper  limits  of  this  work  were  I to 
undertake  to  enter  into  a careful  analysis  of  all  the  details  of  the 
architecture  of  this  period  ; but  I think  it  essential  to  refer  to  a few, 
in  order  that  we  may  comprehend  how  the  architects  of  the  lay  school 
at  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century  proceeded  when  they 
undertook  to  adopt  new  forms. 

Let  us  consider,  for  example,  the  mouldings,  which,  in  architec- 
ture, have  a double  importance,  being  affairs  not  only  of  necessity, 
but  of  sentiment,  — of  necessity,  in  that  they  should  always  have 
a practical  duty  to  perform  ; of  sentiment,  because  their  form  and 
character  should  be  such  as  to  indicate  this  duty.  When  a mould- 
ing or  profile  exactly  fulfils  its  function  and  satisfies  the  eye  with 
an  outline  perfectly  appropriate  to  this  function,  it  has  style.  And 
every  architecture  whose  profiles  answer  to  these  conditions  may  be 
safely  regarded  as  a refined,  well-developed,  and  well-studied  mani- 
festation of  art.  The  architecture  which,  on  the  contrary,  covers 
its  buildings  with  mouldings  used  simply  as  decorative  features  and 
not  justified  by  reason  either  in  character  or  position,  wants  one  of 
the  most  essential  qualities  of  style.  Now,  of  all  the  architectures 
with  which  we  are  familiar,  those  of  the  Greek  antique  and  of  the 
lay  school  of  the  Middle  Ages  are  the  only  ones  whose  mouldings 


GREEK  AND  LATIN  MOULDINGS. 


317 


are  equally  satisfactory  to  reason  and  to  sentiment.  I am  sorry  to 
exclude  Roman  architecture,  but  it  certainly  manifested  this  quality 
only  when  it  was  but  a servile  imitation  of  Greek  or  Etruscan  art. 
The  Roman  mouldings  of  the  imperial  epoch,  after  Trajan,  are  mere 
copies  of  Greek  profiles,  becoming  daily  further  and  further  removed 
from  their  originals.  As  for  the  mouldings  of  the  Italian  or  French 
Renaissance  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries,  they  are  but 
misunderstood  traditions  of  the  best  antique  arts,  degenerate  types, 
drawn  at  hazard  by  architects,  and  seen  indifferently  by  the  public. 
The  Romans  seemed  never  to  attach  any  great  importance  to  a 
thing  which,  for  them,  was  certainly  a mere  matter  of  detail  more 
or  less  happily  applied,  but  quite  without  any  especial  significance. 
During  the  Romanesque  epoch  in  France,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
can  see  that  the  architect  carefully  studied  this  essential  part  of  his 
art  ; he  purified,  as  it  were,  the  profiles  transmitted  by  the  architec- 
ture of  a degraded  epoch,  but  he  never  abandoned  them  completely  ; 
we  can,  in  every  instance,  detect  that  the  Roman  types  served  always 
as  points  of  departure,  never  entirely  lost  sight  of  ; but  towards  the 
close  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  profiles,  like  the  construction  and  the 
sculpture,  underwent  a complete  transformation. 

Let  us  turn  to  a few  examples.  We  have  observed  that  the 
Greeks  placed  bases  under  their  Ionic,  but  not  under  their  |)oric 
shafts.  Yet  there  are  very  ancient  examples  of  the  use  of  this  mem- 
ber in  Greece,  as  in  the  columns  of  the  frontispiece  of  the  treasury 
of  Atreus  at  Mycene,  where  the  bases  bear  a singular  resemblance  to 
those  used  by  the  Persians  and  Assyrians.  In  like  manner,  the 
bases  of  the  Ionic  order,  which  is  more  ancient  than  the  Doric,  are 
evidently  Asiatic  importations,  while  the  Doric  order  is  indigenous 
to  Greece.  But,  in  appropriating  the  Ionic,  the  Greeks,  according  to 
their  invariable  custom,  transformed  and  purified  it,  without  losing 
sight  of  its  traditional  members  ; they  always  refrained  from  placing 
at  the  base  of  a column  any  projecting  foot  or  socket  which  would 
interfere  with  the  passage  of  the  portico,  and  so,  while  they  preserved 
the  Ionic  base,  they  studiously  rejected  the  square  plinth  ; thus,  the 
base  of  the  Ionic  order  of  the  Erectheum  is  circular  like  the  shaft. 
The  bases  of  the  grand  portico  have  this  profile  (Eig.  63)  ; those  of 
the  little  portico,  this  (Eig.  64).  Profiles  so  delicate  and  angles 
so  sharp  could  only  have  been  executed  in  marble,  and  it  must  be 
admitted  either  that  the  Greek  boys  were  less  destructive  than  ours, 


318 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


or  else  that  they  were  not  permitted  to  approach  these  porticos, 
where  they  would  have  been  most  likely  to  amuse  themselves  by 
knocking  off  the  delicate  edges.  Although  these  profiles  are  undeni- 
ably much  more  beautiful  than  their  Asiatic  prototypes,  I must  say 


Fig.  63. 


that  the  fillet  A of  the  base  in  Fig.  63  seems  justifiable  to  me  neither 
bjr  reason  nor  sentiment.  I can  only  see  that  the  motive  of  the  archi- 
tect was  to  obtain  a marked  shadow  under  this  fillet  A,  in  order 
to  completely  detach  the  upper  torus. 

Fig.  64. 


Let  us  pass  by  the  Roman  base  of  the  time  of  the  empire,  as  used 
in  the  Ionic  and  Corinthian  orders, — a base  which  every  one  knows, 
and  which  rests  upon  a square  plinth  whose  projecting  corners  are 
readily  broken  under  the  superincumbent  weight,  and  are  of  no  earthly 


ROMANESQUE  AND  GOTHIC  BASES. 


319 


use  except  to  trip  up  the  unwary  ; let  us  pass  on  to  France,  where, 
even  as  early  as  the  Romanesque  epoch,  there  were  bases  bearing  cer- 
tain analogies  to  the  Greek  protiles,  as  in  Fig.  05,  which  represents 
the  base  of  a column  of  the  choir  in  the  church  of  St.  Stephen  at 
Nevers  (eleventh  century).  This  base  A is  circular  in  plan,  and  rests 
upon  a plinth  B,  which  is  octagonal  in  plan.  The  Romanesque 
architect  who  designed  the  profile  of  this  base  probably  was  not  ac- 
quainted with  the  Erectheum  at  Athens,  though  he  had  perhaps  seen 
the  Byzantine  profiles  which  were  derived  from  it  ; but  it  is  clear  that 
he  instinctively  rejected  the  Roman  profiles  which  were  abundant  all 
about  him,  especially  in  abandoning  the  square  plinth  in  favor  of 
bases  reposing  directly  on  the  pavement.  But  this  example  is  per- 
haps one  of  those  experiments  of  transition  through  which  we  cannot 

Fig.  65. 


always  trace  a method.  At  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century,  however, 
we  can  see  that  a decided  change  took  place  in  the  outline  of  this 
member  ; the  lower  torus  was  flattened,  so  as  more  effectually  to  grasp 
the  plinth,  which  had  reappeared  ; but  the  angles  of  this  plinth  were 
either  hewn  off,  or  four  leaf-like  scrolls  were  projected  from  the  lower 
torus  to  cover  them.  (See  Fig.  66.) 

Here  are  presented  several  profiles  of  bases  belonging  to  this  epoch  ; 
the  profile  E is  from  the  church  of  Montréale  (Yonne)  ; the  profile  F 
is  from  the  choir  of  the  church  of  Vézelay  ; the  profile  G,  from  the 
town  hall  of  St.  Antonin  (Tarn-et-Garonne).  The  beds  or  lower 
joints  of  the  shafts  being  at  K,  the  congé  or  outward  sweep  of  the 
foot  of  the  shaft,  as  in  the  Greek  examples,  is  avoided,  together  Avith 
the  danger  of  fracture,  to  which  that  member  is  liable  when  employed  ; 


320 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


tlie  upper  toms  is  detached  suddenly  from  the  shaft,  and  the  fillet  be- 
neath it  faces  upward  that  it  may  have  its  full  effect,  the  whole  base 

Fig.  66. 


being  below  the  level  of  the  eye  ; the  scotia,  or  hollow  moulding,  is 
boldly  scooped,  but  full  enough  in  its  outline  not  to  detract  from  the 


GREEK  AND  LATIN  CORNICES. 


321 


solidity  of  the  base,  while  it  completely  separates  the  two  tori  ; the 
fillet  beneath  the  scotia  is  also  inclined  to  present  its  face  to  the  eye, 
and  the  lower  torus  by  its  flat  slope  connects  the  whole  base  closely 
with  the  plinth,  whose  projecting  corners  are  consolidated  with  the 
lower  torus  by  the  claws  or  appendices,  represented  in  D,  which  af- 
fected different  forms,  usually  taken  from  the  vegetable  kingdom.  It 
is  worth  remarking  that,  in  the  example  G,  the  upper  torus  is  chan- 
nelled horizontally  like  that  of  the  Greek  base  ; and  I would  add  that 
all  these  bases  are  cut  in  a hard  stone  with  a precision  and  purity 
which  our  most  skilful  workmen  can  hardly  equal.  Now  in  Roman 
architecture,  whether  an  order  is  placed  in  a basement  and  rests  di- 
rectly on  the  ground,  or  whether  it  forms  an  upper  gallery,  to  be 
looked  up  to  from  below,  the  base  never  changes  ; while,  in  all  our 
mediaeval  edifices,  this  feature  undergoes  essential  modifications  to 
suit  its  position.  Thus,  if  a column  is  very  much  elevated  above 


Fig.  67. 


the  level  of  the  ground  or  pavement,  the  members  of  the  base  are  so 
modified  that  the  eye,  looking  from  below,  can  see  all  its  mouldings. 
(See  Fig.  07.) 

Fig.  6S. 


The  Greek  cornice  is  always  appropriate  to  its  destination,  is  al- 
ways used  as  a crowning  member,  never  as  an  intermediate  string- 
course, and  its  upper  surface  A (Fig.  OS)  carries  a gutter  of  metal, 
21 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


QOO 

O SJ 


under  which  are  two  drip  mouldings,  at  A'  and  at  B,  to  prevent 
water  from  running  down  the  face  and  soiling  the  stone  with  its 
washings.  But  what  shall  we  think  of  a Roman  cornice,  which,  with 
all  its  appendages,  is  degraded  to  the  duty  of  merely  separating  two 
stories,  a cornice  whose  upper  surface  (Fig.  69)  receives  the  rain  and 
snow,  and  whose  profile  is  so  managed  that  a drop  of  water,  falling 
at  A,  is  forced  to  run  along  all  the  surfaces  between  A and  B,  defil- 


Fig.  69. 


ing  them  with  deposits  of  dust  and  washings  of  dirt,  before  finding 
at  B a dripping-place  where  it  can  at  last  leave  the  stone?  But  the 
architects  of  the  twelfth  century,  instead  of  inserting  a cornice  be- 
tween two  stories  in  this  manner,  used  but  a simple  string-course  or 
moulded  band,  whose  profile  was  such  (Fig.  70)  as  immediately  to 
reject  the  rain. 

Fig.  70. 


If  they  wished  to  compose  an  archivolt,  a moulding  circulating 
over  an  arched  opening,  they  took  care  to  make  a profile  which 


GREEK  AND  GOTHIC  BASES. 


323 


should  best  indicate  the  power  of  resistance  with  which  the  arch 
should  be  provided,  without  cutting  into  the  stone  so  deep  as  really 
or  apparently  to  weaken  its  mass. 

Neither  Greeks  nor  Romans  ever  appeared  to  have  concerned 
themselves  much  about  economy  of  material  or  labor  in  stone-cut- 
ting. Every  stone,  as  it  conies  from  the  quarry,  is  practically  a paral- 
lelopipedon  ; if,  therefore,  we  wish  this  stone  to  have  a projection 
anywhere  on  its  face,  the  rest  of  the  face  must  be  cut  away  to  leave 
the  desired  projection.  Thus,  in  Eig.  71,  if  we  wish  to  give  a facing- 
stone  ( ashlar ) a projecting  profile  A,  we  must  cut  away  from  the 
rest  of  its  face  the  thickness  13  C.  This  waste  of  material  and  labor 

Fig.  71.  Fig.  72. 


would  be  avoided  by  having  the  joint  at  D instead  of  E.  The 
Greeks,  in  placing  their  joint  at  E,  considered,  not  without  reason, 
that  every  pier  or  column  should  have  a firm  footing  upon  the 
ground,  and  they  so  treated  their  base-mouldings,  therefore,  as  to 
express  this  idea  of  stability,  not  only  by  the  profiles,  but  by  avoid- 
ing level  joints  between  their  vertical  surfaces  and  their  base  projec- 
tions ; this  was  a consequence  of  the  method  of  Greek  structure, 


3.24 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


derived  from  the  simplest  laws  of  statics.  But  when-  the  primitive 
system  of  stability  by  post  and  lintel  was  replaced,  in  the  twelfth 
century,  by  a system  of  stability  obtained  by  the  resultant  of  oppos- 
ing forces,  by  equilibrium,  it  became  useless  and  even  dangerous 
to  give  to  the  base  of  the  supporting  members  such  a projection 
as  should  not  be  fitted  to  these  new  conditions  of  stability.  Thus 
we  can  readily  perceive  that  when  a column  had  only  to  carry  a 
weight  acting  vertically,  it  was  reasonable  to  project  the  foot  of  the 
monolith  to  give  it  a firmer  base,  as  in  Tig.  72.  But  when  these 
columns  or  piers  had  to  support  weights  acting  obliquely  in  contrary 
directions,  and  thus  resolving  themselves  into  a vertical  pressure,  the 
theory  was  never  sufficiently  certain  in  practice  to  obtain  an  absolute 
result  ; it  was  always  necessary  to  allow  for  movements  which  are 
likely  to  take  place  in  every  équilibrions  system  seeking  its  centre  of 
gravity  ; thus,  if  the  mediaeval  architects  had  copied  the  Greek  and 
Roman  base,  any  inclination  of  the  perpendicular  line  I K would 
have  resulted  in  the  fracture  of  the  congé  L.  It  was  therefore  at  K', 
and  not  at  M,  that  they  placed  the  lower  joint  or  bed  of  their  shafts, 
thus  rendering  the  gentle  sweep  K L absurd.  So  at  the  end  of 
the  twelfth  century  the  modifications  represented  in  Tig.  GG  were 
adopted. 

The  Romanesque  school  had  already  exhibited  a marked  tendency 
thus  to  design  mouldings  with  a view  to  the  necessities  of  construc- 
tion ; and  in  this  respect  it  was  in  advance  of  the  Roman  architecture 
of  the  empire,  which  was  very  little  affected  by  any  such  considera- 
tions. But  that  which  the  Romanesque  architects  evidently  under- 
stood, the  lay  architects  of  the  twelfth  century  established  in  practice 
and  made  a law.  In  composing  their  mouldings,  therefore,  they 
were  governed,  first,  by  considerations  of  position  ; second,  by  a scru- 
pulous regard  for  the  heights  of  the  courses  along  which  they  pro- 
posed to  carry  their  moulding,  if  horizontal  ; third,  by  a careful  ob- 
servation of  the  most  economical  method  of  cutting  the  stone  in 
respect  to  its  mass  : that  is,  losing  as  little  stone  and  as  little  labor 
as  was  consistent  with  the  effect  to  be  obtained.  Thus,  a project- 
ing moulding  was  never  cut  on  the  stone  which  composed  the  ashlar 
facing  of  the  wall.  The  Roman,  on  the  contrary,  as  in  Tig.  73, 
receiving  the  blocks  as  they  were  quarried,  if  he  proposed  to  cut  a 
string-course  or  level  moulding,  often  traced  the  profile  A on  the 
upper  part  of  the  stone,  leaving  the  joints  at  C C,  thus  losing  the 


ARCHITECTURE  WITH  SMALL  STONES. 


325 


mass  included  in  13.  But  the  architect  of  the  twelfth  century  (see 
Fig.  74)  occupied  the  whole  height  B B of  a course  of  stone  with 
his  moulding  A,  regulating  the  height  by  the  quantity  or  importance 
of  the  moulding,  thus  losing  the  smallest  amount  of  labor  and  mate- 


Fig.  73.  Fig.  74. 


rial  in  obtaining  his  effect.  This  was  an  absolute  rule,  and  admitted 
no  exception,  as  may  be  readily  ascertained  by  examining  a few 
monuments  of  the  era.  It  is  easy  to  understand  that  this  judicious 
employment  of  material  is  a quality  to  be  seriously  regarded. 

When  I beheld  the  basilica  of  the  giants  at  Agrigentum,  and  saw 
that  not  only  the  engaged  exterior  columns,  but  the  interior  piers 
and  even  the  great,  caryatides,  were  built  up  with  low  courses  of  stone 
having  many  vertical  joints,  and  that  the  materials  of  this  structure, 
in  comparison  with  its  colossal  dimensions  and  Titanic  character, 
were  little  better  than  rubble  and  far  too  small  for  the  size  of  its 
features,  I could  not  but  think  that  the  Greeks,  considering  it  a para- 
mount necessity  to  obtain  forms  which  were  conventionally  held  as 
beautiful  among  them,  seemed,  in  this  case,  to  concern  themselves 
little  about  modifying  those  forms  to  suit  the  nature  of  the  material 
they  had  to  work  with.  I am  aware  that  they  covered  this  construc- 
tion with  stucco,  in  order  to  conceal  the  want  of  harmony  between 
the  form  and  the  material  ; and,  when  I place  myself  at  their  point  of 
view,  I admire  what  they  did,  and  refrain  from  blaming  them.  But 
when  I see  an  edifice  of  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  century,  in  which 
the  architect  has  known  how  to  obtain  beautiful  forms  by  the  use  of 
just  this  kind  of  material,  modifying  the  former  to  suit  the  nature 
of  the  latter,  my  admiration  is  again  aroused  and  my  spirit  entirely 
satisfied.  I say  to  myself,  If  the  Greeks  had  been  aware  of  the 
principles  which  governed  this  architect,  if  they  had  possessed  the 
same  practical  knowledge,  it  is  probable,  as  they  reasoned  like  him, 
they  would  have  been  led  to  do  as  he  did  ; but  taking  their  points 


326 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  departure  from  opposite  principles,  they  have  necessarily  arrived  at 
different  results.  I see,  among  the  Greeks,  excellent  artists,  who,  in 
their  buildings,  sometimes  regarded  construction  (which  was  very 
simple  in  their  day  and  applicable  only  to  the  simplest  monuments) 
as  a matter  of  but  little  importance.  But,  among  the  mediaeval 
architects,  I see  skilful  constructors,  forced  to  combine  vast  and 
complicated  monuments,  who  yet  knew  how,  by  the  simplest  means, 
to  create  a perfect  harmony  between  their  forms  and  their  structure. 

The  Greek  wished  to  obtain  form  and  obtained  it,  as  beautiful  as 
it  was  simple  ; his  method  of  construction  was  also  simple,  but  he 
made  it  subordinate  to  the  paramount  consideration  of  form  ; nothing 
could  be  more  logical.  The  lay  architect  of  the  twelfth  century,  by 
the  force  of  circumstances,  by  the  modern  spirit,  by  the  new  require- 
ments of  his  time,  was  constrained  to  adopt  a very  delicate  and  very 
complicated  structure,  which  he  was  careful  not  to  conceal  ; on  the 
contrary,  he  sought  to  explain  it  by  the  most  natural  forms  ; again, 
nothing  could  be  more  logical.  I agree  that  the  age  of  Pericles  is 
of  greater  value  to  the  world  than  that  of  Philip  Augustus,  and  that 
one  would  be  justified  in  preferring  to  be  a contemporary  of  Ictinus 
rather  than  of  Pierre  de  Corbie;  but  it  is  a waste  of  time  to  indulge 
in  such  regrets  or  desires  ; we  cannot  shut  our  eyes  to  the  course  of 
the  centuries  and  all  that  they  have  brought  with  them  of  new  ideas, 
new  requirements,  experiments,  and  discoveries.  Strange  though  it 
may  seem,  therefore,  to  hear  it  said  that,  to  advance,  we  must  look 
back  twenty  centuries,  yet,  to  advance  rationally  and  consistently, 
we  must  know  the  path  which  has  already  been  trodden,  and  all  the 
experience  which  has  accumulated  on  the  road.  Now,  of  this  experi- 
ence, that  included  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  is  the  most 
instructive  in  the  history  of  art,  because  it  was  a part  and  an  expres- 
sion of  a prodigious  intellectual  movement  towards  modern  ideas, 
a movement  provoked  by  the  lay  spirit  acting  against  tradition,  seek- 
ing new  means  and  applying  new  forms.  I would  not  be  understood 
to  say  that  this  school  discovered  the  last  and  most  complete  expres- 
sion of  our  art.  Certainly  not  ; but  it  is  a storehouse  of  beautiful 
ideas,  and  we  cannot  progress  without  resorting  to  it  for  informa- 
tion. But  some  may  say,  We  admit  that  the  epoch  of  which  you 
speak  was  powerful,  and  made  great  progress  in  the  arts  ; yet  did 
not  subsequent  centuries  continue  to  progress,  and  would  you  have 
no  regard  to  what  has  been  done  since?  would  you,  who  say  we 


PROGRESS  IN  ART  BY  RETROSPECTION. 


327 


should  not  retrograde,  wipe  out  the  last  six  centuries  and  refer  us  to 
an  era  which  has  long  passed  by?  To  this  I would  reply  that  it 
amounts  to  nearly  the  same  thing  whether  we  go  back  six  or  twenty 
centuries  ; it  is  not  a matter  of  time,  but  of  the  applicability  of  the 
experience  we  are  trying  to  gather  to  our  own  progress  in  art.  Those 
who,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  thought  it  necessary  to  go  back  to  the 
arts  of  classic  antiquity,  instead  of  developing  those  of  their  mediae- 
val predecessors,  had  their  reasons,  which  I shall  presently  endeavor 
to  explain  ; but  for  us  to  imitate  them  in  this  respect,  and  to  perpetu- 
ate this  return  to  ancient  art,  is  like  compelling  a young  and  vigor- 
ous body  to  live  with  corpses,  it  is  to  doom  it  to  a living  death.  We 
admire  the  tombs,  but  we  do  not  live  in  them.  It  is  one  thing  to 
read  the  works  of  a dead  man,  another  to  be  enveloped  in  his  shroud. 
The  question  is  not  whether  we  shall  retrograde  to  the  time  of  Peri- 
cles, of  Augustus,  or  of  St.  Louis,  but  whether  we  shall  cast  our  eyes 
over  the  past  and  examine  the  epochs  when  art  was  a living  expres- 
sion of  civilization,  and  evinced  an  ability  to  develop  new  principles  ; 
whether  we  are  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  treasures  of  art  which  have 
accumulated  in  history,  neglecting  no  part  of  them  in  our  investiga- 
tions, to  consider  all  the  principles  developed  and  to  fix  an  artistic, 
not  an  antiquarian  eye  upon  those  which  are  true,  applicable,  and 
vivifying  for  all  time. 

The  Greeks  were  born  under  a beautiful  sky,  free  from  the  fogs 
and  mists  which  obscure  our  atmosphere  ; they  established  them- 
selves in  the  midst  of  a country  divided  by  gulfs  and  by  mountains, 
and  rich  in  materials  of  marvellous  beauty.  They  adopted  that 
architecture  which  was  best  suited  to  these  conditions,  and  they 
reached  an  intellectual  development  only  possible  in  a little  country, 
and  in  the  midst  of  societies  which  were  but  associations  of  mer- 
chants and  men  of  wit  ; they  perfected  the  arts  as  only  a nation 
of  intelligent  amateurs  could  do.  This  result  must  forever  remain 
the  envy  and  regret  of  succeeding  generations  as  an  unattainable 
excellence.  But,  I would  ask,  what  analogies  are  there  between 
these  select  societies  and  our  vast  Christian  nationalities  ? As  for 
Greek  unity,  it  was  a dream  never  destined  to  be  realized  in  an- 
tiquity. The  little  societies  or  municipalities  of  Greece  were  only 
united  when  compelled  by  a common  danger  threatening  their  exist- 
ence and  their  liberty.  The  danger  passed,  they  resumed  their  mu- 
tual quarrels,  and  these  quarrels  disturbed  the  soil  of  Greece,  even 


328 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


while  its  civilization  was  advancing  towards  perfection.  In  the 
West,  on  the  contrary  (and  when  I speak  of  the  West  I refer  espe- 
cially to  France),  the  dominating  idea  was  national  unity  ; and  to 
the  attainment  of  this  end  art  was  one  of  the  most  powerful  agents  ; 
the  character  of  this  art,  therefore,  deserves  to  be  studied,  if  it  were 
only  for  this  reason,  and  if  it  had  no  practical  application  to  present 
uses.  That  which  is  admirable  in  the  Roman  architecture  of  the 
empire  is  the  manifestation  it  presents  of  a powerful  organization  ; 
but  in  tins  manifestation  there  were  often  exhibited  a disdain  for 
the  forms  of  art  and  an  evident  disregard  of  the  individuality  and 
liberty  of  the  artist.  The  Greeks,  on  the  contrary,  in  their  best  times, 
always  submitted  art  to  a careful  criticism  for  its  own  sake  ; if  their 
buildings  were  ever  intended,  like  those  of  the  Romans,  to  be  politi- 
cal or  religious  manifestations,  their  art  did  not  stop  with  the  bare 
accomplishment  of  this  purpose,  in  giving  majesty  and  grandeur  to 
the  masses,  but  embraced  the  minutest  details  ;*  and  the  artist  was 
not  considered  a mere  trifler  for  devoting  time,  study,  and  reason 
even  to  a matter  so  unimportant,  apparently,  as  the  cutting  of  a 
moulding.  We  have  said  that  the  Romans  were  skilful  administra- 
tors, men  of  large  ideas,  imposing  no  creeds,  and  concerning  them- 
selves little  about  art  for  its  own  sake.  I cannot  but  think  that 
there  was  a certain  grandeur  in  this  evident  disdain  of  the  Roman 
for  that  which  belonged  to  the  artist,  that  which  attached  the  artist 
to  his  art  as  to  a religion  ; for,  if  he  disdained  art,  he  at  least  did 
not  persecute  it,  nor  did  he  modify  it  with  the  prejudice  or  caprice 
of  an  amateur  : he  did  not  enter  into  .the  question  of  creeds  of  any 
kind,  he  exacted  nothing  but  respect  for  his  law  and  submission  to 
his  administrative  and  political  system  ; little  would  he  sympathize 
with  your  concern  about  adopting  this  or  that  form,  provided  you 
kept  to  the  practical  conditions  he  imposed  upon  you  ; such  matters 
were  your  affairs,  not  his.  But  art  is  like  religion  also  in  this,  that  mere 
toleration  is  not  enough  for  it  ; it  requires,  lives  by  sympathy  ; and 
when  it  exists  among  people  who  content  themselves  with  not  being 
hostile  to  it,  who  excite  it  neither  by  adhesion  nor  criticism,  it  must 
necessarily  decline  : this  explains  why  art  may  decline  even  under  a 
powerful  and  flourishing  empire  like  that  of  the  Romans  up  to  the 
time  of  Constantine.  But  when  a government  takes  enough  interest 
in  art  to  oppose  it  or  seeks  to  constrain  or  even  to  direct  it,  it  does 
not  become  enfeebled  if  it  is  in  the  hands  of  true  artists  ; for  opposi- 


LIBEETY  NECESSAEY  TO  PEOGEESS  IN  AET. 


329 


tion  to  the  arts,  as  to  religious  creeds,  kindles  and  revives  them,  if 
their  disciples  are  in  earnest.  In  France,  as  in  Greece,  to  attempt  to 
ostracize  an  artist  has  ever  been  to  increase  his  influence  over  the  arts 
of  his  time. 

If  the  Romans,  in  the  first  century  of  our  era,  could  establish  an 
official  art,  no  power  could  effect  such  a result  in  France,  because  of  a 
fortunate  tendency  to  investigation  and  criticism  in  art  among  French- 
men, and  especially  among  that  class  of  artisans  which  architects  are 
obliged  to  use.  Architecture  has  only  been  brilliant  in  France  when 
it  lias  really  belonged  to  artists,  and  when  they  have  been  able  to  de- 
velop it  without  restraint.  To  every  sensible  mind,  which  is  aware  of 
the  material  difficulties  which  surround  the  execution  of  the  simplest 
architectural  work,  whether  on  account  of  the  nature  of  the  pro- 
gramme imposed,  the  material  to  be  employed,  the  resources  to  be 
used,  the  space  available,  etc.  ; whether  by  reason  of  the  conditions 
of  art,  proportion,  or  harmony  to  be  satisfied  ; the  multiplicity  of  de- 
tails involved  even  in  the  simplest  construction  ; the  thorough  knowl- 
edge required  of  the  general  effects  to  be  obtained  by  the  reunion  of 
materials,  cut,  fabricated,  moulded,  forged,  or  prepared  apart  in  the 
studio  of  the  sculptor,- — to  every  sensible  mind,  I say,  aware  of  all 
these  practical  difficulties,  it  is  very  evident  that,  if  we  would  have 
an  architecture,  the  architect . must  be  allowed  to  resolve  these  diffi- 
culties in  his  own  way,  without  the  additional  embarrassment  of  a 
direction  vague  and  tyrannical  or  an  interference  capricious  and  ex- 
acting/to which  he  must  submit,  perhaps,  but  with  natural  repug- 
nance and  to  the  serious  detriment  of  the  work  in  hand.  But  let  it 
be  remembered  that  the  architect,  to  establish  any  just  claim  to  the 
independence  essential  to  the  full  and  effectual  exercise  of  his  art, 
must  be  so  familiar  with  the  practical  means  of  execution  as  never  to 
be  embarrassed  by  them.  Thus,  in  studying  the  architecture  of  the 
ancients,  especially  that  of  Greece,  and  the  French  architecture  of  the 
best  mediaeval  epochs,  we  can  easily  see  that  the  architects  were  com- 
plete masters  of  all  the  mechanical  and  constructive  methods  then 
known  ; and  that,  when  a new  problem  was  presented,  involving  new 
combinations,  their  professional  resources  were  such  that  they  could 
meet  it  by  a new  application  of  the  immutable  principles  of  their  art, 
without  going  astray.  The  Greeks  had  brought  their  means  of  exe- 
cution to  such  perfection,  they  were  so  sure  of  their  practical  knowl- 
edge, such  absolute  masters  of  all  their  exigencies  of  construction,  that 


330 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


their  imagination,  or,  if  yon  prefer  it,  their  genius,  was  never  fettered 
by  material  necessities  ; their  conception  of  a work  of  art  was  never 
weakened  by  doubts  as  to  how  it  should  be  executed  : we  must  bear 
in  mind,  however,  that  their  mechanical  methods  were  very  simple. 
The  lay  masters  of  the  Middle  Ages,  on  the  contrary,  had  been  led  to 
adopt  the  most  complicated  construction,  yet  without  injury  to  the 
purity  of  their  artistic  conceptions  ; and  they  preserved  this  liberty 
of  thought  and  design,  because,  however  complicated  their  construc- 
tion, this  construction  was  so  thoroughly  understood  and  perfectly 
reasoned  as  to  be  pliable  to  every  possible  emergency  of  design  and, 
properly  speaking,  in  itself  to  constitute  architecture.  To  conceive 
and  to  execute  were  one  and  the  same  thing  in  this  school.  But  in 
this  nineteenth  century  we  do  not  proceed  in  this  manner  ; it  is  not 
rare  to  meet  persons,  considered  competent  judges,  or  even  artists, 
who  believe  that  a project  conceived  by  an  architect  can,  without 
losing  any  of  its  merit,  be  put  into  execution  by  outside  subalterns 
without  any  direct  supervision  of  the  architect.  Now  a work  of 
architecture,  like  every  other  work  of  art,  is  the  most  intimate  asso- 
ciation and  agreement  between  the  conception  of  it  and  the  manner 
and  means  of  executing  it  ; and  to  suppose  that  an  architect  can  make 
a design,  which  another  can  execute  without  his  superintendence,  is 
the  same  as  admitting  that  a musician  may  be  two  men,  one  who 
composes  anti  one  who  arranges  the  score  for  the  orchestra.  The 
skilful  architect,  in  designing,  always  has  in  view  the  materials 
he  is  to  employ,  their  forms  and  dimensions  ; he  must  appreciate 
their  qualities  and  nature,  and  dispose  of  them  accordingly  ; he 
builds  up  in  one  day  in  his  mind  what  it  will  take  years  to  erect 
actually  ; and  the  sheet  of  paper  before  him  already  becomes,  as  it 
were,  a vast  constructor’s  yard,  where  masons,  stone-cutters,  carpen- 
ters, iron-workers,  slaters,  joiners,  glaziers,  sculptors,  and  painters 
are  plying  their  vocations  to  produce  an  harmonious  whole,  just  as 
the  musician,  in  composing  an  opera,  hears  the  various  instruments 
of  the  orchestra,  the  choruses,  and  the  voices  of  the  singers.  But 
in  order  that  the  public  may  recognize,  in  the  score  of  the  musician 
as  in  the  monument  of  the  architect,  an  original  work  of  art,  bearing 
the  impress  of  personal  talent,  the  musician  must  have  himself  writ- 
ten and  arranged  all  parts  of  his  composition,  as  the  architect  must 
have  himself  apportioned  among  all  his  workmen  the  various  details 
which  compose  his  monument  ; and  it  is  as  essential  that  the  musi- 


LIBERTY  NECESSARY  TO  PROGRESS  IN  ART. 


331 


cian  himself  should  direct  the  rehearsals,  so  that  he  may  modify  his 
work  where  experiment  may  render  it  necessary,  as  that  the  architect 
should  superintend  his  mechanics  and  arrange,  according  to  the  spirit 
of  his  design,  the  innumerable  unforeseen  emergencies  of  execution  as 
they  daily  arise  under  the  hands  of  the  workmen. 

It  should  always  be  remembered  as  a fact  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance that,  of  all  the  works  of  man,  art  is  that  which  suffers  most  from 
the  least  imperfection  ; and,  to  attain  anything  like  perfection  in  art, 
two  conditions  are  absolutely  necessary  : first,  a man  of  genius  or,  in 
his  absence,  a man  of  talent  ; then,  to  him,  perfect  liberty  to  develop 
this  genius  or  talent,  and  to  use  all  the  natural  and  acquired  re- 
sources of  his  mind.  In  the  most  glorious  epochs  of  art  the  neces- 
sity of  these  conditions  was  never  questioned. 


EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


ON  THE  CAUSES  OF  THE  DECLINE  OF  ARCHITECTURE.  — ON  SOME  OF  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF 
ARCHITECTURAL  COMPOSITION.  — ON  T1EE  RENAISSANCE  IN  THE  AVEST  AND  ESPECIALLY 
IN  FRANCE. 

architecture  is  almost  as  much  a science  as  an  art, 
reason  and  calculation  entering  largely  into  its 
conceptions,  it  follows  that  architectural  compo- 
sition is  not  only  a labor  of  imagination,  but  is 
subject  to  certain  fixed  rules  which  must  Tie 
methodically  applied,  and  to  certain  practical 
requirements  which  are  exact  and  limited.*  In  this  respect,  the 
architect  is  unlike  the  painter  or  the  sculptor,  with  whom  execution 
follows  immediately  upon  conception,  without  the  intervention  of  any 
extraneous  considerations.  Thus,  the  invention  of  the  architect  must 
be  chastened  on  the  one  hand  by  the  absolute  requirements  of  his 
problem,  including  fixed  conditions  of  expense  and  site,  and,  on  the 
other,  by  the  nature  of  his  materials  and  the  manner  of  using  them. 
All  these  elements  must  have  their  due  influence  over  his  design. 
It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  to  habituate  the  architectural  student 
to  composition,  the  programme  given  him  to  develop  should  ahvays 
be  accompanied  by  a statement  of  the  practical  obligations  to  which 
he  would  be  obliged  to  submit  in  the  actual  execution  of  the  work. 

* If  we  turn  to  the  word  Composition,  in  the  “Dictionnaire  d’ Architecture,”  of  M.  Quatre- 
rnère  de  Quincy,  we  shall  see  that,  though  the  distinguished  author  does  not  develop)  his  defini- 
tion to  the  extent  we  might  desire,  he  presents  this  remarkable  passage  : “ N othing  is  more  im- 
portant for  the  architect,  when  he  composes,  than  to  keep  constantly  in  view  the  practical  means 
b}''  which  his  inventions  are  to  be  realized.  The  necessity  of  submitting  composition  to  the 
means  of  execution  should  exercise  a controlling  influence  over  architectural  education  from  its 
very  beginning.  The  study  of  composition  should  not  be  confined  to  imagining  upon  paper 
plans  which  are  simply  agreeable  by  the  variety  or  symmetry  of  their  dispositions,  and  eleva- 
tions which,  by  their  novelty  or  by  the  arrangement  of  masses  and  mouldings,  shall  be  pictu- 
resque. For  it  often  happens  that  those  effects,  of  which  imagination  is  prodigal  in  design, 
either  cannot  be  executed,  or,  to  be  executed,  would  require  prodigious  expenditure.” 


THE  FAILURE  OF  ACADEMIC  ARCHITECTURE. 


333 


But  architects  are  not  so  educated  in  France.  They  go  through 
a course  of  instruction  under  the  protection  of  the  state  ; but  this 
course  is  practically  limited  to  the  composition  of  designs  on  pro- 
grammes of  requirements,  generally  of  the  vaguest  character,  and 
often  far  removed  from  the  habits  of  modern  times  ; these  pro- 
grammes are  limited  by  none  of  those  conditions  regarding  expense, 
site,  materials,  and  local  habits  of  building,  which  exercise  so  tyran- 
nical a sway  over  the  actual  practice  of  architecture.  This  course 
of  instruction  presents  to  the  pupils  only  certain  forms  or  styles, 
more  or  less  well  interpreted,  of  ancient  art,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
others  ; it  is  jealous  of  any  bold  innovation,  based  upon  the  employ- 
ment of  modern  means  ; it  turns  in  this  same  circle  for  a fixed  num- 
ber of  years  ; and  finally,  as  a supreme  recompense  for  an  exact 
submission  to  these  doctrines,  it  sends  the  young  architects  to  Rome 
or  Athens,  that  they  may  there  for  the  hundredth  time  restore  the 
Coliseum  or  the  Parthenon.  The  practical  result  of  this  method  of 
education  is  the  common  complaint  that  architects  involve  those  per- 
sons or  committees  who  employ  them  in  expenses  far  beyond  their 
intentions  ; that  architects  do  not  readily  conform  to  the  material 
exigencies  of  the  work  in  hand  ; that  they  are  preoccupied  with  the 
idea  of  erecting  a building  which  shall  rather  do  themselves  honor 
than  fulfil  all  the  conditions  imposed  by  the  necessities  and  habits  of 
the  moment  ; and,  finally,  that  they  continually  copy  antique  styles 
rather  than,  by  submitting  their  imagination  to  modern  conditions, 
seek  an  architecture  which  can  be  appreciated  and  understood  in 
modern  times.  Thus  we  reap  what  we  have  sown,  for  we  cannot 
complain  of  architects,  since  we  have  made  them  what  they  are. 

Now,  if  this  is  a good  method  of  instruction,  we  have  no  reason  to 
regret  the  result  ; but  if  the  result  is  really  unsatisfactory,  let  us 
modify  the  method.  It  is  true  that,  outside  of  these  strict  limits  of 
the  Imperial  School  of  Fine  Arts,  there  is  perfect  liberty  ; but,  for 
reasons  unnecessary  to  enumerate  here,  very  few  know  how  to  use 
this  liberty,  which  thus  naturally  degenerates  into  license  and  eccen- 
tricity. And  so,  between  academical  oligarchy  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  anarchy  resulting  from  the  absence  of  all  method  on  the 
other,  we  look  around  us  in  vain  for  that  object  of  daily  desire,  a 
type  of  art  modelled  on  our  own  epoch.  It  is  a matter  of  astonish- 
ment that,  in  the  midst  of  such  a deplorable  state  of  affairs,  architec- 
ture manages  to  hold  so  respectable  a place  in  France  ; and  this  only 


334 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


proves  that,  as  a nation,  the  French  have  a natural  fitness  for  the 
study  and  practice  of  this  art,  and  that,  if  they  had  a true  and  liberal 
system  of  education,  instead  of  a mere  initiation  or  a protectorate 
such  as  the  Roman  patrician  exercised  towards  his  client,  their  archi- 
tecture might  become  indeed  brilliant  and  perfect.  Art  divided 
among  jealous  and  exclusive  schools,  holding  to  formulas  and  not 
principles,  abandoning  the  large  and  generous  freedom  of  reason,  or, 
under  pretext  of  dignity,  shutting  itself  up  in  an  utter  dumbness, 
exacting  from  its  disciples  only  a boundless  submission  to  doctrine 
or  to  the  shadow  of  doctrine,  — this  is  a feature  of  decline.  It  is  in 
such  epochs  that  architects  seek  merely  the  triumph  or  predominance 
of  their  especial  sect,  instead  of  the  great  and  true  interests  of  art, 
which  can  only  live  and  progress  by  constant  movement  and  free 
discussion,  by  the  refreshment  obtained  by  the  introduction  of  new 
elements,  and,  in  short,  by  liberty  subordinated  to  reason. 

With  the  exception  perhaps  of  the  thirteenth  century  and  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  there  never  has  been  an  epoch  in  France  so 
distinguished  for  activity  in  building  as  the  present.  Yet  I but  echo 
the  common  talk  when  I say  that  none  of  the  new  buildings  which 
fill  our  cities  appear,  in  design  at  least,  to  repose  either  upon  the 
principles  of  the  great  epochs  of  art,  from  which  they  profess  to 
be  imitated,  or  upon  new  principles  which  have  arisen  since.*  Built 
at  great  cost,  profuse  and  contradictory  in  their  use  of  material,  they 
are  without  the  harmony  of  truth,  and  have  nothing  in  them  to  indi- 
cate the  necessities  or  natural  tastes  of  a civilization  ; they  abound  in 
dim  reminiscences  of  Greek  or  Roman  architecture,  - — Roman  espe- 
cially,— and  of  the  Italian  or  French  Renaissance  of  the  sixteenth 
and  seventeenth  centuries  ; but  not  even  the  perfection  of  the  execu- 
tion nor  the  beauty  of  the  materials  employed  can  make  us  overlook 
the  want  of  ideas  and  the  absence  of  pliability,  unity,  and  character  : 
qualities  which  hitherto  have  belonged  to  the  arts  of  all  epochs,  how- 

* It  would  be  unjust,  however,  not  to  admit  that,  among  these  new  buildings,  there  are  some 
which,  in  point  of  art,  are  remarkable  works.  1 would  cite,  for  example,  the  central  markets 
of  Paris,  which  are  harmonious  in  construction  and  design,  and  admirably  adapted  to  the  pur- 
poses for  which  they  were  built.  If  all  our  monuments  were  built  with  the  same  absolute  re- 
spect for  practical  requirements  and  the  habits  of  the  people,  and  indicated  their  construction  as 
frankly,  they  would  not  only  have  a character  appropriate  to  our  epoch,  but,  as  works  of  art, 
would  be  beautiful  and  comprehensible.  Wherever  there  is  this  intelligent  submission  to  the 
necessities  of  a programme  and  to  the  material  employed,  there  must  result,  in  my  opinion,  a 
very  beautiful  edifice.  Perhaps,  in  confining  ourselves  to  these  conditions,  and  never  think- 
ing of  making  a work  of  art,  we  would  find  the  shortest  road  to  those  monumental  expressions 
of  our  civilization  which  are  works  of  art  indeed. 


I’l  W. 


THE  CHATEAU  OF  BOULOGNE,  CALLED  MADRID. 


PLAN  OF  FIRST  FLOOR. 


HOW  TO  REFORM  MODERN  ARCHITECTURE. 


335 


ever  low  they  may  have  been  classed  in  history.  These  deficiencies 
are  sufficiently  emphatic  to  strike  even  those  who  are  completely 
ignorant  of  the  theory  and  practice  of  art. 

But  architecture  has  not  fallen  so  low  that  we  cannot  hope  to  see 
it  rise  again.  The  evil  is  not  without  remedy.  We  are  not  hope- 
lessly reduced  to  the  necessity  of  copying  the  Romans  very  badly, 
the  Greeks  very  weakly,  (for  who  understands  the  Greek  architec- 
ture?) the  Middle  Ages,  the  Renaissance,  the  style  of  Louis  XIV., 
and  even  the  expressionless  monuments  of  the  close  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, to  return  again  to  the  Romans,  for  the  want  of  another  model, 
and  recommence  the  profitless  cycle  of  imitations.  For,  above  and 
outside  of  these  various  forms  of  the  same  art,  there  are  certain  im- 
mutable principles  so  copious  as  to  be  the  fountain  of  styles,  so  elastic 
that  we  can  apply  them  to  new  requirements  as  they  arise,  and  thus 
create  new  combinations,  new  forms,  new  lines,  suited  to  the  age 
of  progress  in  which  we  live.  And  these  principles  are  no  impene- 
trable mysteries,  accessible  only  to  the  elect  ; they  are  catholic  and 
available  to  all. 

It  is  high  time  to  look  into  these  principles,  and  to  make  use  of 
these  elements  of  new  life  which  are  still  at  our  doors  ; we  must  turn 
aside  from  the  petty  interests  of  schools,  and  concern  ourselves  only 
with  the  great  interests  of  an  art  which,  when  these  interests  have 
been  observed,  has  ever  proved  itself  the  most  apparent  expression, 
the  plainest  record,  of  the  characteristic  civilization  of  races  and 
nations.  We  must  investigate  fearlessly,  and  examine  into  the  phi- 
losophy of  all  the  developments  of  art  without  regard  to  the  sus- 
ceptibilities, however  respectable,  the  prejudices,  however  venerable, 
with  which  we  may  come  in  contact  in  our  course  of  examination 
and  experiment. 

Above  all,  let  us  guard  against  contempt  of  public  opinion  ; it 
would  be  wise  rather,  as  a last  resort,  to  consider  public  opinion 
as  sovereign  and  final  : for,  after  all,  the  monuments  which  we  build 
are  for  the  public,  and  it  is  the  public  which  demands  and  pays 
for  them.  I admit  that  public  opinion  should  be  enlightened,  al- 
though, even  now,  it  does  not  go  so  far  astray  as  we  are  prone  to 
think  ; but  it  is  evident,  on  the  other  hand,  that,  so  long  as  we  sedu- 
lously conceal  from  the  profane  the  principles  of  art,  and  make  of 
architecture  a sort  of  freemasonry,  a language  incomprehensible  for 
the  multitude,  we  may  obtain  from  the  multitude  the  blind  respect 


33  6 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


which  flatters  or  the  indifference  which  isolates  us,  but  not  the  sym- 
pathy which  encourages  or  the  appreciation  which  makes  us  earnest 
to  deserve.  Since  the  last  century,  architecture  has  been  a mystery, 
whose  rites  (if  any)  have  been  veiled  from  the  public  ; from  this  sanc- 
tuary have  issued  monuments  whose  sense  or  utility  not  one  person 
out  of  ten  comprehends,  but  which  are  accepted  because  the  chiefs 
of  the  doctrine  have  declared  them  correct  and  conformed  to  rules, 
without  ever  undertaking  to  explain  these  rules,  and  for  a very  good 
reason.  If  the  people,  weary  of  these  architectural  sphinxes  which 
arc  built  up  before  them  with  their  money,  ask  for  an  explanation, 
they  are  told  frankly  that  they  cannot  expect  to  understand  such 
things;  that  these  buildings  are  erected,  not  according  to  common- 
sense,  but  according  to  ancient  rules  ; that  if  the  public  finds  them 
neither  beautiful  nor  commodious,  the  fault  is  with  the  public,  and 
that  the  guardians  of  the  dogma,  who  are  alone  competent  to  judge, 
are  satisfied,  and  this  should  suffice.  Strange  that,  in  an  age  like 
ours,  when  every  morning  new  ideas  come  to  light,  and  everything 
is  discussed,  even  to  the  foundations  of  society,  one  thing  alone, 
it.  would  seem,  remains  immovable,  the  inexplicable  dogma  of  archi- 
tecture, guarded  by  a mysterious  Areopagus  ! In  vain  do  the  voices 
of  the  profane  from  without  call  for  a new  architecture,  — an  archi- 
tecture for  our  time  and  for  us,  an  architecture  which  can  be  un- 
derstood, an  architecture  conformed  to  our  civic  customs.  The 
Areopagus,  of  course,  deigns  no  reply  to  such  indiscreet  clamors  ; 
but  closes  its  gates,  and,  the  louder  the  noise  of  the  multitude,  the 
blinder  the  submission  it  exacts  from  its  neophytes.  TV  hat  then 
.must  be  done?  where  is  the  remedy?  The  power,  or  rather  the 
government,  which  is  not  artistic,  and  which  has  something  else 
to  do  besides  meddling  with  discussions  on  art,  prefers  to  transfer 
its  responsibility  to  the  guardians  of  doctrines  which  they  themselves 
have  declared  the  only  sound  ones,  and  thus  of  course  everything 
remains  for  the  best  in  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds.  “ Besides,” 
says  government,  “ where  is  the  touchstone  ? The  public  is  not 
satisfied,  you  say  ; there  may  be  a few  grumblers,  who  protest  in 
this  way,  or  perhaps  some  journal,  whose  friends  have  nothing  to 
build  ; but  where  do  you  find  this  complaining  public  ? As  for  us, 
we  have  heard  nothing  but  praises  about  these  buildings.  Are  there 
not  always  envious  people  about  ? France  is  an  admirable  country, 
the  city  of  Paris  is  worthy  to  be  its  capital  ; nowhere  will  you  find 


THE  APPEAL  TO  THE  PUBLIC. 


337 


a government  more  enlightened  and  more  loyal  to  the  true  interests 
of  the  nation  ; the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  includes  the  cream  of  the 
architects,  who  have  chosen  each  other,  and  consequently  it  is  the 
most  liberal  of  all  the  institutions  in  this  country  of  enlightenment 
and  the  arts.  What  reason,  then,  has  the  public  to  complain?  ” Of 
course,  to  this  there  is  nothing  to  reply. 

But  the  manager  of  a theatre,  on  the  other  hand,  cannot  afford 
to  disregard  public  opinion,  because  with  him  it  is  a question  of 
receipts  ; and  if  the  pit  hisses  the  new  comedy  it  is  withdrawn, 
although  it  may  have  received  the  applause  of  the  most  select  com- 
mittee of  critics.  A bad  picture,  although  surrounded  by  the  high- 
est patronage,  when  exhibited,  remains  a bad  picture,  and  the  painter 
has  to  keep  it  for  himself.  A book,  however  well  puffed,  if  it  wearies 
its  readers,  remains  on  the  shelves  of  the  publisher.  But  if  a house 
is  built,  and  found  to  be  in  bad  taste,  what  is  to  be  done?  It  is 
rather  costly  to  tear  it  down.  Our  only  resource  is  not  to  look  at^ 
it,  and  try  to  forget  it. 

In  the  domain  of  letters,  painting,  and  sculpture,  the  appeal  to  the 
public  is  real.  There  are  no  middle-men  between  the  work  of  the 
artist  and  the  public  ; therefore,  in  these,  monopoly  or  ostracism 
is  impossible.  The  French  academies  and  the  schools  of  moral  sci- 
ence, of  painting  and  sculpture,  could  not  be  exclusive  if  they  would  ; 
for  public  opinion,  whose  criticism  of  literary,  historical,  or  philo- 
sophical works,  or  concerning  sculpture  and  painting,  is  respectable 
and  respected,  causes  the  most  venerable  academic  doors  to  open, 
and  give  entrance  to  the  authors  and  artists  whom  it  sanctifies  with 
approval.  We  have  lately  seen  some  remarkable  examples  of  this. 
But  with  architecture  it  is  quite  otherwise.  As  the  architect  cannot 
build  a monument  in  his  cabinet,  the  direct  appeal  to  the  judgment 
of  the  public  is  denied  him.  If  he  is  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  agree 
with  the  opinions  of  the  academic  body,  however  happily  arranged 
his  plans  and  however  profound  and  serious  his  studies,  they  are 
condemned  as  soon  as  his  building  is  erected  ; as  his  design  has  not 
been  made  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  Villa  Medici,  lie  can  furnish  no 
recognized  proofs  of  his  merit,  and  his  path  is  crossed  by  adversaries 
often  sufficiently  powerful  to  oppose  an  effective  veto  to  his  success 
and  his  fame.  “He  who  is  not  with  us  is  against  us!”  This  has 
ever  been  the  supreme  maxim  of  every  organization  outside  of  the 
control  of  public  opinion.  “ The  schools  are  intolerant  from  convic- 
22 


338 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


tion,”  wrote  lately  one  of  our  brethren.  But  a body  recruiting  itself 
in  its  own  circle,  responsible  to  no  one  but  itself  for  its  instruction, 
its  doctrines,  and  its  judgments,  must  become  exclusive  and  bigoted. 
If  the  wisest  and  most  sincere  of  men  are  included  among  its  mem- 
bers, for  the  very  reason  that  they  are  sincere,  learned,  and  in  ear- 
nest, they  will  use  the  power  of  their  institution  as  a Propaganda, 
and  will  place  a barrier  in  the  way  of  all  those  who  do  not  share 
in  their  opinions  or  prejudices.  To  expect  from  them  any  other 
conduct  would  almost  be  to  impeach  the  dignity  of  their  character 
and  the  sincerity  of  their  convictions. 

How,  then,  under  these  circumstances,  can  we  hope  to  bring  to 
light  principles  which  are  not  admitted  by  the  school,  forms  which 
the  school  rejects,  investigations  and  experiments  which  it  considers 
subversive  and  dangerous  ? How  are  we  to  obtain  a young  and 
rejuvenated  art,  the  issue  of  an  unprejudiced  examination  of  many 
opinions,  of  the  tendencies  of  our  civilization,  and  of  the  ever- 
changing  requirements  of  the  day  P 

Architecture,  after  all,  is  but  a form  given  to  ideas  ; it  is,  as  a 
poet  has  said,  “ a book  of  stone.”  Taking  up  the  analogy  thus  sug- 
gested, let  us  suppose  that  the  Trench  Academy  had  the  will  and  the 
power  to  prevent  the  publication  in  any  manner  of  a certain  order 
of  new  or  renewed  ideas,  and  could  compel  all  men  of  letters  to 
express  only  a certain  number  of  authorized  ideas  in  formulas  of 
language  which  were  used  two  centuries  ago  ; I ask,  Could  the  Acad- 
emy have  any  right  to  complain  of  the  inevitable  monotony,  the 
incomprehensibility,  the  uselessness  of  literary  works?  TVould  it 
not  be  wise,  under  such  a limitation,  to  read  only  ancient  literature, 
and  to  confine  all  active  literary  effort  to  law-papers  and  mercantile 
accounts  ? 

In  Trance,  the  upper  classes  have  a fondness  for  art,  but  the  lower 
classes  a passion.  So  long  as  this  passion  exists,  art  cannot  be 
hopelessly  degraded,  nor  its  reformation  impossible  ; for  whenever 
art  is  not  imposed  upon  the  workman  who  is  actuated  by  this  im- 
pulse, and  does  not  assume  the  tone  of  an  unimpeachable  dogma, 
whenever  it  comes  to  him  as  a matter  to  be  discussed,  and  alloAvs 
him  a certain  degree  of  freedom,  ail  will  at  once  begin  to  assume 
wholesome  characteristics  of  expression.  The  numerous  body  of 
artisans  through  whose  hands  all  architecture  has  to  pass  in  its  prac- 
tical development,  is  an  assurance  that  it  is  not  quite  irredeemable  so 


NEED  OE  LIBERAL  EDUCATION  IN  ARCHITECTURE.  339 


long  as  these  artisans  retain  an  innate  love  for  art,  and  so  long 
as  clear  argument  and  plain  demonstration  can  refute  the  hollow 
though  specious  phrases  so  loudly  uttered  in  accordance  with  the 
exclusive  doctrines  of  the  schools. 

It  is  a commonly  received  idea  that  artists  are  not  positive  in  char- 
acter, but  are  apt  to  be  led  away  by  illusions.  I should  not  think 
it  worth  while  to  dispute  this  prejudice,  were  it  not  that  its  existence 
places  the  reciprocal  relation  between  the  artists  and  the  enlight- 
ened public  in  an  absolutely  false  light.  Artists,  and  architects  above 
all,  are  least  likely  to  become  visionary,  and  most  likely  to  become 
positive,  on  the  contrary,  for  the  simple  reason  that,  with  them,  every 
effort  of  the  imagination  translates  itself  immediately  into  a fact. 
Every  art-idea,  to  be  expressed  visibly,  requires  a form,  a practical 
means,  a handicraft  of  some  kind  ; this  immediately  restores  to  the 
artist  a feeling  for  reality,  and  a consciousness  of  the  limits  of  human 
power.  It  is,  therefore,  no  waste  of  time  to  reason  with  artists  ; and 
a school  of  art,  to  be  a school  indeed,  and  something  better  than 
a mere  protectorate,  whose  principal  concern  is  to  surround  itself 
with  submissive  disciples,  must  be  erected  upon  liberty  of  discus- 
sion, upon  the  unrestricted  interchange  of  ideas,  and  upon  the  emu- 
lation of  rival  principles  manifesting  themselves  with  perfect  freedom, 
but  so  chastened  by  opinion  as  to  avoid  eccentricity  or  excess. 

We  in  France  are  apt  to  boast  of  our  superiority  over  all  other 
nations  of  Europe  as  regards  art,  forgetting  that  the  obscurity  with 
which  government  allows  all  questions  touching  art  to  be  shrouded 
is  accelerating  its  decline,  while  in  Germany  and  England  there 
is  a liberality  of  sentiment  and  a growing  enlightenment  of  public 
opinion  on  these  points  which  seriously  threaten,  not  only  to  overtake 
us,  but  to  leave  us  behind.  While  we,  in  the  absence  of  a whole- 
some method  of  instruction,  are  doing  what  we  can  with  our  natu- 
ral aptitude  for  architectural  study,  our  neighbors  are  establishing 
schools,  which,  far  from  being  exclusive,  like  ours,  are  boldly  search- 
ing among  all  the  original  arts  of  the  past  for  the  elements  of  a new 
style  better  fitted  for  modern  uses  and  necessities.  While  the  lau- 
reates of  our  schools  are  shut  up  in  the  Villa  Medici , the  young 
architects  of  England  and  Germany  are  wandering  over  France, 
Italy,  and  Greece,  studying  the  architectural  developments  of  every 
country,  comparing  them,  investigating  the  workshops,  and  seeking 
to  make  themselves  familiar  with  the  philosophy  of  the  various  revo- 


340 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


lutions  which  have  taken  place  in  art.  Private  associations  are  form- 
ing museums  of  architectural  mouldings  and  copies,  all  available 
to  the  humblest  workman.* 

The  natural  and  inevitable  deduction  from  all  this  is,  that,  of  all 
the  arts  in  France  in  this  nineteenth  century,  architecture  is  in  the 
most  favorable  condition  for  a prolonged  development  of  insignifi- 
cance, unless  architectural  education  shall  become  more  liberal,  and 
the  true  and  vital  principles  of  the  art  be  more  widely  disseminated. 
Believing  that  the  only  true  and  healthy  architecture  of  a country 
is  that  which  everybody  in  it  can  understand,  discuss,  and,  to  a 
certain  extent,  practise,  1 shall  endeavor  to  remove  the  thick  veil 
which  has  so  long  enveloped  ours,  and  made  of  it  a sort  of  hieratic 
art  founded  upon  fictitious  dogmas,  an  empty  formula  of  principles, 
a hieroglyph,  which  not  even  the  initiated  can  decipher,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  it  does  not  mean  anything. 

I remember  hearing  the  celebrated  Champollion  laugh  heartily  on 
examining  some  drawings  brought  from  Egypt,  because  the  draughts- 
men, probably  finding  themselves  pressed  for  time  in  the  midst  of 
the  Egyptian  sands,  had  mechanically  repeated  certain  fragments 
of  hieroglyphs  as  an  ornament  over  the  surface  of  a column,  so  that, 
when  interpreted,  it  appeared  that  “ the  joyous-hearted  Ra-men-cheper, 
offspring  of  the  sun,  entirely  despoiled  all  the  granaries  and  gardens 
of  the  city  of  Jr  at- ton  ” thirty-two  times  in  succession,  which  must 
have  been  no  easy  task.  In  reproducing  the  forms  of  classic  architec- 
ture we  have  hardly  exhibited  a higher  degree  of  intelligence.  True 
architectural  knowledge  does  not  consist  in  an  exact  understanding 
of  the  relative  proportions  of  the  orders  according  to  the  ancients  or 
the  modern  masters  of  the  Renaissance,  in  the  correct  treatment  of 
a moulding,  in  the  conventional  relations  which  exist  or  are  thought 
to  exist  between  the  parts  and  the  whole  of  an  order;  it  is  not 
bounded  by  any  such  precise  and  artificial  limits,  but  it  is  based 
supremely  upon  reason  and  common-sense  ; it  consists  in  knowing 
how  these  qualities  should  govern  architectural  forms,  and  mould 

* It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  a retrograde  movement  has  lately  been  made  in  Eng- 
land in  favor  of  exclusive  doctrines.  In  a recent  discussion  the  House  of  Commons  decided  that 
the  Italian  style  should  be  adopted  in  the  new  public  offices.  But  when  a political  body  med- 
dles thus  with  questions  of  style,  there  is  no  serious  danger  to  be  apprehended.  A style  of  art 
cannot  be  decreed  any  more  than  the  stjde  of  a hat  ; and  this  victory  of  Lord  Palmerston  in 
England  will  result,  probably,  in  building  the  new  offices  in  the  style  of  Palladio,  but  there  his 
influence  over  art  will  stop. 


THE  FOUNDATION  OF  TRUE  STALES. 


341 


them  so  that  they  shall  become  the  expression  of  a civilization,  — 
an  expression  so  direct  and  frank  that  the  common-sense  of  the 
people  can  sit  in  judgment  upon  them  and  recognize  what  is  good 
and  what  bad  ; it  consists  in  erecting  common-sense  into  a standard 
of  criticism,  which,  although  not  quite  infallible  nor  philosophical 
enough  to  explain  its  instinctive  praise  or  blame,  shall  be  so  pre- 
vailing as  to  compel  the  freemasonry  of  the  schools  to  discuss  and 
defend  their  dogmas,  if  they  have  any,  or  to  state  the  grounds  of 
their  opinions,  if  any  such  can  be  found.  It  consists,  finally,  in 
instituting  an  investigation  so  thorough  into  the  philosophy  of  the 
development  of  form  in  the  best  periods  of  art,  that  any  given  sched- 
ule of  requirements  can  be  rationally  interpreted  in  the  broad  light 
of  precedent  and  according  to  the  most  complete  understanding  of 
the  theory  of  architectural  expression. 

Among  all  civilized  nations,  of  whatever  age,  the  practical  require- 
ments of  the  same  class  of  buildings  have  been,  on  the  whole,  nearly 
identical  ; but  these  requirements  have  been  subject  to  especial  archi- 
tectural interpretations  according  to  the  climate,  traditions,  manners, 
customs,  tastes,  and  other  local  conditions  in  each  case.  Thus,  for 
ancient  Athenians  and  for  modern  Parisians,  the  requirements  for  a 
theatre  remain  the  same  as  regards  the  destination  of  the  edifice.  In 
both  cases  there  are  required  accommodation  for  numerous  spectators 
so  that  all  may  hear  and  see,  a stage,  an  orchestra  for  choruses  or 
musicians,  waiting-rooms,  apartments  for  actors,  corridors  for  specta- 
tors, and  ready  facilities  of  exit  and  entrance.  But  a modern  theatre 
bears  very  little  resemblance  to  the  theatre  of  Bacchus.  And  why? 
It  is  because,  by  the  side  of  this  programme,  indicating  only  the 
destination  of  the  edifice,  there  are  other  requirements  dictated  by 
local  manners  and  customs.  Among  these,  the  single  fact  that, 
while  the  scenic  representations  of  the  ancients  took  place  in  broad 
daylight,  ours  are  reserved  for  the  night,  is  itself  enough  to  create 
between  the  ancient  and  the  modern  edifice  an  essential  difference 
of  construction,  interior  distribution,  and  decoration.  And  if,  to 
these  contrasting  conditions,  we  add  the  thousand  details  which  our 
theatrical  habits  have  rendered  indispensable,  such  as  scenic  effect, 
the  machinery  of  the  stage,  the  division  of  the  auditorium  into  boxes, 
etc.,  there  must  result  an  architectural  work  which  has  nothing  in 
common  with  its  classic  prototype  except  name.  Thus  we  have 
a programme  presented  to  satisfy  the  same  necessity  at  Athens  and 


342 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


at  Paris  ; but,  because  the  local  habits  are  different  in  the  two  places, 
two  edifices  result  entirely  different  in  character.  We  are  authorized, 
therefore,  to  establish  it  as  a general  principle  that,  in  every  pro- 
gramme of  requirements,  there  is  a basis  of  similarity,  as  the  prac- 
tical wants  to  be  satisfied  by  building  must  be  nearly  the  same  in  all 
ages  of  civilization  ; but  that  there  is  also  a distinction  of  form  or 
style  imposed  by  local  and  immediate  necessities  ; that  architecture 
is  nothing  more  than  the  expression  of  this  distinction  of  form  ; that 
the  usages  of  society  cannot  be  expected  to  yield  to  any  fixed  archi- 
tectural dispositions,  but  that  these  dispositions  must  depend  upon 
the  usages  and  vary  with  the  variations  of  manners  and  customs. 
No  one,  I suppose,  will  contest  this  principle.  Put  certainly,  since 
the  beginning  of  this  century,  it  has  not  been  recognized  in  practice. 

Now,  therefore,  as  architectural  composition  must  consider,  first, 
the  general  programme  of  requirements  imposed  in  each  case,  and, 
second,  the  local  habits  and  conditions  in  the  midst  of  which  we  live, 
it  is  essential,  in  order  to  design  intelligently,  to  have  a definite  pro- 
gramme and  to  be  sensitive  to  the  practical  requirements  of  such 
habits  and  conditions.  A programme  imposed  in  the  time  of  the 
Roman  Empire,  like  one  presented  in  modern  times,  must  require 
windows  to  give  light  to  the  interior  apartments  ; the  architecture, 
which  arises  to  satisfy  the  conditions  of  this  programme,  can  in 
neither  case  disregard  this  primary  requirement  ; yet  a Roman  win- 
dow does  not  and  cannot  resemble  a modern  window,  because  the 
usages  are  different  in  the  two  cases  ; in  either  case,  of  course,  the 
window  can  be  nothing  else  than  an  aperture  in  a wall,  but  the  man- 
ner of  contriving,  closing,  and  glazing  this  window,  its  treatment, 
whether  it  is  regarded  as  a means  of  admitting  light  from  without 
inward,  or  of  affording  a prospect  from  within  outward,  the  character 
of  the  material  with  which  the  aperture  is  built  or  framed,  and,  of  the 
room  into  which  it  opens,  — all  these  things  must  produce  very  dif- 
ferent compositions  of  this  feature  if  the  architect  is  alive  to  the 
conditions  and  requirements  of  his  time.  Architecture  assumes  a 
distinctive  character,  and  attains  its  proper  rank  as  an  index  and  type 
of  the  civilization  to  which  it  belongs,  when  it  is  not  only  the  faith- 
fid  interpretation  of  the  programme  imposed,  but  when  it  is  made  to 
assume  the  forms  best  and  most  naturally  adapted  to  the  practical 
requirements  of  the  moment,  and  suffers  all  those  traditions,  however 
venerable,  which  interfere  with  a due  regard  for  the  progress  ot 


ORIGIN  OF  DIFFERENCE  IN  STYLES. 


343 


invention  and  discovery  to  be  laid  aside  as  antiquities.  A people, 
regardless  of  these  conditions,  can  have  no  architecture  ; with  them 
the  architect  compiles,  but  he  does  not  compose. 

The  architecture  of  the  Egyptians,  that  of  the  Greeks,  the  Romans, 
and  of  the  Middle  Ages  in  the  West,  fulfil  these  conditions  perfectly, 
and  this  is  why  the  arts  of  these  countries  and  times  have  left  ineradi- 
cable traces  in  history.  Thus  the  Egyptians,  deducing  their  archi- 
tectural composition  alike  from  given  programmes  and  from  their 
national  customs,  obtained  a simple  and  true  art.  The  building, 
whatever  its  extent,  had  but  a single  axis,  all  the  apartments  being 
en  suite.  The  sentiment  of  initiation  was  carried  out,  not  only  in 
the  temple,  but  in  the  palace,  and  it  was  expressed  in  both  by  a 
vestibule,  court,  or  enclosure,  covered  or  uncovered,  and  by  a suc- 
cession of  rooms,  through  which  it  was  necessary  to  pass  before 
arriving  at  the  sanctuary,  the  extreme  room,  which  was  almost  always 
the  smallest  and  the  most  carefully  enclosed.  The  richest  decora- 
tion was  reserved  for  the  interior.  The  exterior  presented  merely  an 
envelope  of  simple  masses  ; the  covered  walks  or  porticos  opened  on 
the  courts,  and  never  on  the  exterior.  In  all  this  we  perceive  the 
influence  of  an  essentially  theocratic  system.  But  with  the  Greeks, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  monument,  however  sacred,  was  made  for 
the  public.  It  did  not  conceal,  it  made  a display  of  its  richness. 
Its  portico  was  on  the  exterior.  The  mysterious  appearance  of  the 
Egyptian  monument  disappeared.  It  was  the  edifice  of  a republic, 
not  of  a theocracy.  The  Greek  city  had  no  palaces,  but  was  filled 
with  private  houses  and  temples  and  a few  other  public  buildings, 
such  as  gymnasiums,  theatres,  and  porticos,  — monuments  which 
were  rather  enclosures,  open  to  the  sky,  than  buildings,  in  the  mod- 
ern acceptation  of  the  word.  Again,  the  Roman  architecture  of  the 
emperors  had  an  entirely  different  character.  It  is  true,  they  bor- 
rowed their  temples  from  the  Greeks  and  their  palaces  from  Asiatic 
princes  ; but  their  public  buildings,  such  as  amphitheatres,  baths, 
and  basilicas,  were  developed  out  of  their  own  peculiar  requirements 
and  according  to  their  own  genius.  That  which  is  deserving  of 
especial  study  in  ancient  architecture,  whether  it  belongs  to  the 
East,  to  the  Greeks,  or  to  the  Romans,  is  the  perfect  adaptation  of  its 
composition  to  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people  and  to  their 
methods  of  construction. 

In  previous  Discourses  I have  dwelt  upon  the  fundamental  differ- 


344 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


ences  which  made  of  Greek  and  Roman  architecture  two  distinct 
arts,  especially  as  regards  construction.  The  difference  between  the 
two  architectures  is  no  less  marked  in  regard  to  composition.  The 
Greek  concerned  himself  little  about  what  we  call  the  plan  ; while 
the  Roman,  on  the  contrary,  held  that  the  plan,  or  rather  the  compo- 
sition of  the  plan,  was  the  principal  consideration  of  the  architect  : 
the  plan  was,  with  him,  the  literal  translation  of  the  programme,  and 
the  architecture  was  made  subordinate  to  it.  This  was  because  the 
Roman  was  not  an  artist,  and  because  he  naturally  devoted  himself 
to  the  practical  and  exact  fulfilment  of  the  conditions  imposed  before 
anything  else.  In  this  the  Roman  has  recommended  himself  to  the 
admiration  of  all  subsequent  time  ; and  if  we,  in  modern  times,  have 
ever  separated  ourselves  from  the  Roman  model,  it  has  been  because 
we  are  by  nature  more  artistic  than  the  Romans,  and  have  been  will- 
ing to  sacrifice  our  material  requirements  and  conveniences  to  the 
satisfaction  of  having  a nobler  order  or  of  obtaining  a more  striking 
architectural  effect. 

In  the  absence  of  a thorough  understanding  of  principles  and  of  a 
clear  definition  of  them,  we  have  fallen  constantly  into  the  strangest 
contradictions.  Since  the  seventeenth  century,  we  have  professed  to 
imitate  the  Romans  in  their  architecture,  and  yet  we  have  instinc- 
tively allowed  purely  and  abstractly  artistic  considerations  to  exercise 
a too  predominating  influence  over  our  architectural  compositions. 
Wavering  thus  between  two  opposing  principles,  we  have  produced 
works  entirely  destitute  of  that  spirit  of  frankness  which  may  be 
called  the  only  true  motive  of  architecture.  It  is  very  hard  to  be 
Greek  and  Roman  at  the  same  time.  The  Greeks  sacrificed  a good 
deal  to  form,  but  the  Romans  everything  to  necessity,  to  the  prac- 
tical requirements  of  public  or  private  life.  Both  methods  have  their 
advantages.  But  to  use  both  at  the  same  time  is  impossible  ; by 
attempting  it,  we  satisfy  neither  the  sentiment  of  the  Greek  nor  the 
reason  of  the  Roman,  and  must  inevitably  erect  structures  without 
character. 

It  is  very  certain  that  for  us,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  there 
is  only  one  true  method  of  architectural  composition  ; and  that  is  to 
submit  implicitly  to  all  the  requirements  of  the  problem  given  us, 
and  then,  avoiding  any  attempt  to  force  modern  necessities  to  fit 
antique  forms,  so  to  modify  those  forms,  that  they  shall  become  the 
expression  and  the  exponent  of  the  necessities  we  are  called  upon  to 


FORM  SUBORDINATE  TO  NECESSITY. 


345 


accommodate.  A form  which  is  truly  such  an  exponent  must  of 
necessity  be  good  and  lasting  ; for  all  those  who  have  studied 
architecture  for  any  length  of  time,  without  having  imbibed  too 
many  of  the  prejudices  of  the  schools,  have  had  occasion  to  observe 
that  every  form  which  is  the  unaffected  expression  of  a necessity, 
even  though  the  necessity  is  vulgar,  has  a peculiar  charm. 

Every  part  of  a building  should,  therefore,  have  a good  reason  for 
existing  in  its  particular  form  and  place.  We  instinctively  love 
to  look  at  a beautiful  tree,  because  all  its  parts,  from  the  trunk  which 
fastens  itself  firmly  in  the  ground  to  the  topmost  twigs  which  are 
lifted  up  into  the  air  and  sunshine,  indicate  clearly  the  conditions 
of  life  and  duration  which  belong  to  the  whole.  But  if  every  part 
of  an  edifice  must,  in  the  same  way,  have  its  share  in  expressing  the 
necessity  which  called  for  its  erection,  there  must  exist  between  those 
parts  the  most  intimate  relations.  It  is  in  making  up  au  harmonious 
whole  out  of  such  sympathetic  parts,  that  the  artist  develops  his 
natural  faculties,  his  talents,  and  his  experience.  If,  therefore,  a 
varied  and  precise  acquaintance  with  precedent  in  all  preceding 
styles  of  architecture  is  of  assistance  to  the  architect  in  enabling 
him  to  see  how  others  have  proceeded  before  him,  it  is  sometimes 
a serious  embarrassment  to  him  ; it  is  apt  to  encumber  his  imagina- 
tion with  a thousand  forms,  all,  it  may  be,  excellent  in  themselves, 
but,  in  any  combination,  mutually  detrimental,  and,  not  being  able 
to  apply  them  to  his  purposes  without  change,  he  is  forced  to  such 
compromises,  that  his  design  must  inevitably  lose  character.  I am 
far  from  lamenting  that  we  have  this  extensive  knowledge  of  prece- 
dent, but  that  it  is  so  difficult  for  the  architect  to  prevent  this  knowl- 
edge from  becoming  his  master.  The  more  extensive  and  exact  his 
archaeological  information,  and  the  more  sensitive  his  artistic  instinct 
is  to  the  beautiful  features  of  preceding  styles,  the  more  self-denial, 
firmness,  and  strength  of  mind  are  required  to  enable  him  to  snb- 
ordinate  this  information  and  sensitiveness  to  the  requirements  of  the 
object  he  has  in  hand;  the  more  necessary  it  becomes  to  submit  his 
entangled  mass  of  recollections  to  the  severe  chastisement  of  a correct 
principle  of  architectural  design;  the  more  numerous  and  conflicting 
the  elements  of  an  army,  the  more  strict  and  decisive  must  be  the 
discipline,  which  is  to  make  them  all  available  to  the  uses  of  general- 
ship. Now  more  than  ever  before,  therefore,  in  architectural  com- 
position, do  we  need  to  become  saturated  with  the  broad  and  true 


*3 4 G DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


principles  of  art,  and  to  class  methodically  the  knowledge  of  prece- 
dent which  we  have  acquired.  If  an  architect,  in  studying  out  his 
plan,  does  not  keep  constantly  in  view  the  entire  structure  he  is  to 
build,  if  the  general  arrangement  and  masses  of  it  do  not  remain 
a fixed  unity  in  his  mind  to  direct  every  line,  if  he  relies  upon  the 
resources  of  his  memory  and  his  sketch-book  to  apply  to  every  part 
successively  an  appropriate  form,  his  work,  as  a whole,  will  be  in- 
decisive and  without  unity,  character,  or  frankness  ; and  if,  before 
arranging  his  plan,  he  has  adopted  in  his  mind  a certain  favorite 
façade  or  architectural  combination,  simply  because  it  is  his  favorite, 
or  if  he  has  been  compelled  to  adopt  it  by  the  will  of  others,  his 
work  must  be  bad.  Neglect  of  those  invariable  principles  which 
are,  as  it  were,  the  moral  sentiment  of  art,*  the  absence  of  method 
in  study  and  in  the  classification  of  the  materials  we  have  accumu- 
lated out  of  the  past,  submission  to  the  fancies  of  the  moment,  — 
these  things  have  filled  our  cities  with  monuments  approved  neither 
by  reason  nor  taste,  however  superior  in  execution  and  workmanship. 
If  we  imitated,  not  the  works  of  ancient  and  mediaeval  architects,  but 
the  spirit  with  which  they  usually  composed  those  works,  in  subject- 
ing form  to  reason,  according  to  the  supreme  law  of  good  taste,  we 
should  have  a distinctive  and  characteristic  architecture  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  As  it  is,  so  long  as  we  forget  this  supreme  law,  we 
may  be  decorators  more  or  less  skilful  and  fashionable  as  we  inter- 
pret well  or  ill  the  fancies  and  vagaries  of  the  day,  but  we  shall  not 
be  architects. 

It  is  very  natural  that  architecture  should  be  simple  or  compli- 
cated as  the  requirements  to  be  satisfied  by  the  architect  are  simple 
or  complicated.  There  is  no  more  remarkable  characteristic  in  the 
architecture  of  the  Greeks  than  the  evidence  existing  in  their  plans 
of  the  extreme  simplicity  of  their  national  habits.  But  no  Greek 
would  have  undertaken  the  impossible  task  of  applying  this  same 
simplicity  of  form  and  plan  to  the  exigencies  of  such  a social  state  as 
ours.  Now  the  Romans,  although  they  borrowed  these  forms  from 
the  Greeks,  rather  interpreted  than  imitated  them,  and,  their  pro- 
grammes being  more  complicated,  extensive,  and  varied  than  those 
which  were  satisfied  by  the  Parthenon,  the  Erectheum,  and  the  thea- 
tres of  Athens,  they  developed  architectural  dispositions  far  more 


* I have,  I believe,  sufficiently  insisted  on  the  value  and  extent  of  these  principles  in  preced- 
ing Discourses  ; indeed,  they  may  be  summed  up  in  one  word,  — absolute  respect  for  truth. 


ANCIENT  STYLES  TO  BE  STUDIED,  NOT  IMITATED.  347 


elaborate,  and  involving  new  questions  of  construction  ; but  these 
Greek  forms  often  embarrassed  the  Romans,  and  their  modifications 
of  them  were  apt,  as  we  have  seen,  to  become  corruptions.  The 
western  mediæval  architects,  on  the  other  hand,  who  were  almost  as 
practical  and  much  more  artistic,  finally  and  conclusively  abandoned 
the  Greek  forms,  thus  modified  or  corrupted  by  the  Romans,  to  adopt 
others  more  in  accordance  with  their  resources,  manners,  and  spirit. 
The  investigations  of  the  last  twenty  years  have  distinctly  proved  this. 

Now,  if  the  Greek  buildings,  whether  religious  or  civil,  were 
erected  to  meet  exigencies  too  simple  and  wants  too  restricted  to 
be  applicable  to  Roman  customs  ; if  the  practical  requirements  to  be 
met  by  the  mediæval  architects  differed  so  much  from  those  which 
had  created  the  architecture  of  all  preceding  times  that  they,  in  their 
turn,  were  constrained  to  seek  new  modes  of  construction  and  new 
forms  ; and  if  our  modern  necessities  are  so  complicated  that  even 
the  architecture  of  the  Middle  Ages  cannot  be  accommodated  to 
them  without  fundamental  changes  of  form,  — by  what  singular  pro- 
cess of  reasoning  are  we,  in  our  days,  led  to  go  back  to  the  architec- 
tural forms  or  to  the  mixture  of  forms  in  use  among  the  Romans? 
How  can  we,  without  violence  to  our  habits,  apply  to  our  public  or 
private  structures  the  arrangements  of  plan  convenient  to  the  Rome  of 
antiquity?  In  fact,  the  more  we  have  occasion  to  admire  the  perfect 
adaptation  of  Roman  architecture  to  the  requirements  and  the  daily 
manners  and  customs  of  the  Romans, — manners  and  customs  bear- 
ing no  resemblance  to  our  own,  — the  more  cautiously  should  we 
avoid  reproducing  that  architecture  in  the  cities  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

Strictly  speaking,  we  can  live  and  be  comfortable  in  a chateau 
or  mansion  of  the  fourteenth  century  ; but  who,  in  modern  days, 
would  like  to  live  in  a Roman  mansion  of  the  time  of  the  emperors, 
and  where  is  the  sovereign  who  would  be  commodiously  installed  on 
the  Palatine  ? It  it  is  profitable  to  investigate  the  manner  in  which 
anterior  civilizations  have  met  their  architectural  requisitions,  it  cer- 
tainly is  reasonable  for  us  to  avoid  imitating  any  style  of  architecture 
which  resulted  from  such  requisitions.  The  method  of  composition 
in  these  styles,  and  not  the  composition  itself,  is  what  we  should  seek 
to  apply  to  our  own  practice,  changing,  modifying,  and  complicating 
our  compositions  according  as  our  requirements  are  changed,  modi- 
fied, or  complicated.  But  according  to  some  systems  very  recently 


348 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


adopted,  it  would  seem  that  there  is  a certain  type  or  form,  so  admi- 
rable in  itself,  -that  its  application  to  our  architecture  is  a primary 
condition  of  architectural  beauty,  independent  of  all  considerations 
of  truth  and  reason.  In  these  schools,  the  needs  of  our  time,  the 
tastes  and  particular  spirit  of  our  country,  the  individual  inspirations 
of  the  artist,  our  materials  of  construction,  our  manner  of  employing 
such  materials,  our  modern  industry  and  invention,  — all  these  have 
little  to  do  with  architectural  composition.  But  it  fortunately  hap- 
pens that  considerations  of  convenience  and  economy  are  so  impe- 
rious in  the  designing  and  building  of  our  private  houses,  that  this 
academical  regime,  which  straitens  and  balances,  stiffens  and  for- 
malizes, our  public  structures,  lias  little  comparative  influence  over 
domestic  architecture,  which,  notwithstanding  the  restrictions  of 
municipal  law,  exhibits,  in  a commendable  degree,  a conformity  of 
design  to  requirements;  this  is  so  true,  that  it  is  not  unusual  to  see 
in  modern  cities,  in  the  midst  of  private  houses  perfectly  adapted  to 
our  uses,  new  public  buildings  so  incomprehensible  and  foreign  in 
their  character  that  they  seem  to  belong  to  a civilization  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  our  own.  In  the  greater  part  of  these  public  structures, 
architecture,  instead  of  growing  directly  and  naturally  out  of  the 
practical  requirements  of  such  structures,  and  thus  becoming  a lan- 
guage of  form  by  which  these  requirements  are  interpreted  to  the 
eye,  is  imposed  like  a consecrated  art,  to  the  composition  and  form 
of  which  is  attached  a sacred  tradition.  Let  us  have  independence 
enough  to  see  that  very  many  of  our  public  monuments  seem  built, 
not  to  satisfy  a definite  public  service,  known  beforehand  and  pro- 
vided for  in  all  the  details  of  the  design,  but  to  present  to  the  eye  an 
architectural  mass,  a decorated  screen  to  fill  up  a gap  in  the  scenery 
of  the  city.  No  one  can  say,  in  the  presence  of  these  buildings,  that 
our  age  has  fallen  into  universal  positivism.  Our  architects  select  a 
favorite  elevation,  and  a plan  prepared  according  to  academic  rules, 
which  are  not  always  rational  rules  ; they  study  their  walls  and  deco- 
rate them  accordingly,  with  columns  or  pilasters  perpendicularly,  and 
cornices  or  string-courses  horizontally  ; then,  after  this  mass  of  stones 
has  been  covered,  incrusted,  or  sculptured  with  a design  idealized  or 
imitated,  no  one  knows  why,  from  the  antique  or  the  Renaissance, 
they  begin  to  think  of  distributing  the  vast  spaces  thus  enclosed 
according  to  those  practical  requirements  which  should  have  been 
the  leading  motives  and  impulses  of  the  composition.  Thus,  palace, 


SACRIFICE  OF  INTERIOR  TO  EXTERIOR. 


349 


public  office,  barrack,  ball-room,  stable,  or  museum  are  indiscrim- 
inately forced  behind  the  same  architectural  screen.  Then  begins 
the  real  embarrassment  of  the  architect.  Windows  must  be  cut  in 
twain  by  floors  or  partitions,  stairways  must  be  adapted  to  gloomy 
cages,  considerable  spaces  must  be  lost  because  no  light  can  be  got 
to  them,  and  useful  apartments  must  be  cramped  and  crowded  by 
the  exigencies  of  the  architectural  façade;  gas  must  be  lighted  in 
broad  day  in  extensive  galleries,  while  closets  are  inundated  with 
light  ; porches  must  be  placed  in  front  of  doors  which  were  not  pre- 
pared to  receive  them,  and  windows  must  be  lifted  with  unexpected 
blinds  and  shades  ; the  smaller  rooms  must  be  cut  in  two  in  height, 
in  order  to  avoid  appearing  like  wells,  and  the  ceilings  of  halls  must 
be  raised  at  the  expense  of  the  upper  stories,  that  the  halls  may  be 
restored  to  agreeable  proportions  ; passages  must  be  lighted  by  incon- 
veniently lowering  the  height  of  doors  that  windows  may  be  inserted 
above  ; in  short,  people  must  be  compelled  to  live  in  rooms  without 
air  or  light  in  order  to  present  the  public  with  the  pleasing  exterior 
spectacle  of  a range  of  monumental  galleries.  But  without  speaking 
of  these  interior  distributions,  thus  tortured  for  the  greater  glory  of 
the  exterior  architecture,  we  daily  see  this  exterior  architecture  en- 
tirely losing  in  perspective  the  charming  effects  which  the  architect 
obtained  in  his  geometrical  elevations,  because  he  has  not  taken  into 
consideration  the  difference  between  geometrical  and  perspective 
combinations,  because  he  has  not  dreamed  that  the  shadows  he  has 
so  skilfully  traced  upon  his  drawing  at  an  angle  of  45°,  and  provided 
for  in  his  design  accordingly,  would  never  be  projected  in  reality, 
and  because  he  lias  deceived  himself  concerning  the  unhappy  effect 
of  his  sky-line  by  veiling  the  unsightly  projections  under  the  light 
tints  of  his  colored  sketches.  The  architects  of  antiquity,  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  even  of  the  Renaissance  were  certainly  not  less 
skilful  designers  than  our  own,  yet  they  never  allowed  themselves  to 
be  preoccupied  by  academical  symmetries,  or  to  be  led  astray  by  the 
effects  of  geometrical  drawings  ; the  former  were  arranged  with  a 
view  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  requirements  imposed,  and  the  latter 
made  subordinate  to  the  dispositions  of  the  plan.  They  evidently 
never  suffered  either  themselves  or  their  clients  to  be  deceived  by 
specious  appearances  upon  paper.  To  obtain  this  degree  of  enlight- 
enment, they  did  not,  as  we  do  in  the  schools,  confine  their  studies 
to  projects  of  edifices  which  were  never  to  lie  executed  ; they  habitu- 


350 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


ated  themselves  to  seeing  and  comparing  ; they  applied  themselves 
to  practice  as  well  as  theory,  and  never  limited  their  architectural 
horizon  to  the  walls  of  one  studio  or  even  of  one  city,  though  that 
were  Rome  itself. 

Certainly  we  have  the  means  and  elements  of  progress  in  pro- 
fusion ; but  one  thing  is  wanting,  — a true,  large,  and  libéral  method 
of  instruction  ; a method  based,  not  upon  certain  corrupted  forms, 
but  upon  principles  ; a method  which  will  teach  us  to  see  aright  and 
to  profit  by  all  precedents,  instead  of  veiling  from  our  eyes  entire 
epochs  of  art  ; which  will  seriously  consider  and  provide  for  every 
mechanical  expedient  and  discovery  in  the  science  of  building;  which 
will  develop  the  spirit  of  youth  instead  of  confining  it  in  that  strait- 
jacket  of  ancient  prejudices  which  everybody  outside  of  the  School 
of  Fine  Arts  has  laid  aside  and  forgotten  long  ago. 

To  make  a mystery  of  architecture,  to  confine  it  to  certain  exclu- 
sive conventional  methods  which  the  uninitiated  can  neither  know 
nor  understand,  will,  it  is  true,  obtain  for  the  architect  a sort  of 
monopoly,  which  may  have  its  present  advantages  for  him,  but  which, 
in  the  midst  of  a world  of  progress  and  changes,  must  finally  isolate 
him  from  the  patronage,  as  it  has  already  from  the  sympathy,  of  the 
public.  Already  works,  formerly  confided  to  architects,  are  passing 
into  the  hands  of  others,  and  the  acolyte  of  the  architectural  myth 
will  soon  be  left  alone  with  his  mystery.  In  the  face  of  an  official 
school  of  art,  whose  system  and  creed  repose  on  conventionalisms 
which  no  one  will  or  can  rationally  explain,  irresponsible  specialties 
are  arising  which  tend  every  day  to  destroy  the  unity  of  art  and 
to  take  away  from  the  architect  the  power  of  keeping  architecture 
in  the  path  of  healthy  and  intelligent  development.  A hen  the 
school  says,  “ Let  architecture  perish  rather  than  principle,”  we 
ask  in  vain  what  this  principle  is  for  which  the  school  would  make 
so  savage  a sacrifice.  It  cannot  define  its  principle,  for  it  has  none. 
To  be  a pupil  of  such  a school  may  be  a privilege,  but  certainly 
it  does  not  enable  one  to  struggle  against  the  elements  which  are 
every  day  encroaching  on  the  province  of  architecture,  and  detracting 
from  its  power  to  become  a type  of  the  times  in  which  we  live. 

But  to  return  to  composition.  The  first  condition  of  design  is  to 
know  what  we  have  to  do  ; to  know  what  we  have  to  do  is  to  have 
an  idea  ; and,  to  express  this  idea,  we  must  have  principles  and  a 
form,  that  is,  grammar  and  language.  Now  as  the  grammar  of  archi- 


USE  OE  PRECEDENT  IN  DESIGN. 


351 


tecture  is  properly  a mere  affair  of  common-sense,  it  onglit  to  be 
intelligible  to  everybody.  But  to  be  able  to  understand  and  use 
forms,  the  visible  language  by  which  our  ideas,  when  rationally 
arranged  and  organized,  are  to  be  expressed,  requires  a long  course 
of  theoretical  and  practical  study,  and  a spark  of  the  sacred  fire  of 
inspiration.  To  design,  therefore,  we  must  first  regulate  our  concep- 
tions according  to  certain  immutable  architectural  rules,  based  upon 
common-sense,  and  then  have  in  our  head  and  at  our  fingers’  ends 
forms  pliable  to  the  freest  expression  of  these  conceptions.  We  have 
no  right  to  expect  genius  of  an  architect,  but  we  can  require  reason, 
and  a form  which  can  be  explained  and  understood.  Now,  it  so 
happens  that  in  our  time,  instead  of  thus  basing  the  first  conception 
of  a design  upon  a common-sense  view  of  the  practical  requirements 
to  be  met  and  solved  by  architecture,  it  has  been  the  custom  to  be- 
gin with  certain  formulas,  derived  in  a greater  or  less  degree  from 
a very  ancient  style,  and  to  distort  and  torture  the  whole  archi- 
tectural idea  to  meet  its  rigid  exactions.  Form  is  made  the  law 
instead  of  the  language  of  art,  as  if  in  literature  the  idea,  which  is 
primary,  were  made  subordinate  to  certain  rules  or  styles  of  expres- 
sion, which  are  secondary.  It  is  true  that  a few  liberal  minds 
among  us  have  professed  eclecticism,  and  have  undertaken  to  study 
and  use  impartially  the  whole  range  of  architectural  precedent,  with- 
out confining  themselves  to  certain  eras  of  art;  but,  in  practice, 
this  liberality  has  been  able  to  produce  only  a sort  of  macaronic 
language  (if  I may  be  allowed  the  word)  whose  sense  no  one  can 
understand.  Under  such  circumstances,  however  impartial  we  may 
endeavor  to  be,  it  is  very  difficult  to  give  to  every  form  and  style  the 
place  which  belongs  to  it  with  respect  to  any  architectural  idea  we 
have  to  express.  We  instinctively  select;  and  selection  implies  pref- 
erence, and  preference  brings  us  back  to  exclusion.  Fortunately  for 
antique,  mediaeval,  and  Renaissance  architects,  they  were  less  familiar 
than  we  are  with  the  great  range  of  historic  precedent,  and  therefore 
were  free  from  these  embarrassments.  They  proceeded  always  from 
invariable  principles  ; they  organized  their  ideas  according  to  the 
practical  requirements  of  their  programmes  ; and,  to  express  these 
ideas  in  architecture,  they  had  a system  of  forms  or  a style,  ad- 
mitted in  their  time,  more  or  less  elastic  to  the  uses  of  expression, 
but  always  appropriate  to  the  principles  from  which  they  started. 
They  possessed  a single  language,  and  we  have  many.  If  they  con- 


352 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


cernecl  themselves  with  anterior  forms,  these  forms  were  not  applied 
to  nse  till  they  had  been  passed  through  the  crucible  of  their  own 
time  and  had  been  transformed.  This  fact  may  be  noted  at  the 
epoch  of  the  Renaissance,  and,  later,  at  the  beginning  of  the  seven- 
teenth century. 

The  architects  of  tlie  sixteenth  century,  who  admired  the  remains 
of  Roman  antiquity,  and,  in  good  faith,  believed  themselves  to  be 
inspired  with  a true  sympathy  for  antique  forms,  used  them,  by  habit 
and  by  tradition,  with  a liberty  so  complete,  and  knew  so  well  how 
to  submit  them  to  the  necessities  of  the  time,  that  they  transformed, 
but  did  not  copy  them.  Antique  art  was,  as  it  were,  a language, 
which  they  unconsciously  translated,  so  that,  wishing  to  speak  in 
Latin,  they  really  spoke  in  good  French.  Although  the  influence  of 
antique  art  may  be  recognized  in  this  involuntary  translation,  it  only 
served  to  give  the  architecture  of  that  period  a peculiar  turn  and 
a singularly  piquant  character.  When  Ave  examine  what  remains 
of  the  châteaux  and  palaces  of  the  sixteenth  century,  such  as  Cham- 
bord, Madrid,  Ecouen,  Anet,  some  parts  of  the  Louvre,  etc.,  we  can 
easily  see  that,  although  their  architecture  evidently  grew  up  under 
the  shadow  of  Roman  antiquity,  it  was  nevertheless  quite  different 
from  Roman  art  ; it  was  a truly  French  art,  holding  still  to  French 
traditions  and  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  spirit  and  tastes  of  the 
time,  which  reneAved  or  rather  continued  an  old  form  and  appro- 
priated it  to  assist  in  the  development  of  the  national  architecture. 
The  same  immutable  principles  of  truth  which  had  inspired  the  de- 
velopment of  ancient  and  mediaeval  architecture  governed  the  art 
of  that  epoch,  and  the  forms  which  the  public  taste  of  that  time 
required  to  be  renovated  from  antiquity  were  never  treated  as  supe- 
rior to  these  principles,  but  always  as  subordinate. 

Observe,  in  illustration  of  this  interesting  fact  in  the  history  of 
art,  that,  both  in  the  civil  and  religious  monuments  of  the  Renais- 
sance, the  composition  of  plans  was  modified,  not  according  to  an 
imported  fashion,  but  only  in  obedience  to  the  neAV  requirements 
of  public  and  domestic  life  as  they  arose.  Thus  the  plans  ot  pal- 
aces, châteaux,  mansions,  and  churches  at  that  time  differed  very 
little  from  those  of  the  fifteenth  century,  which,  in  their  turn,  were 
developed  naturally  and  with  no  forced  complications  from  the  dis- 
positions of  the  fourteenth  and  thirteenth.  The  primary  idea  in 
composition,  that  Avhich  dominated  all  others,  Avas  ahvays  to  arrange 


STYLE  SUBORDINATE  TO  USE. 


353 


the  building  according  to  the  exactions  of  the  civil  or  religious 
habits  of  the  day.  This  was  the  sole  motive  in  the  architectural 
conception,  and,  to  express  it,  the  architect  took  a foreign  style,  but 
modified  it  honestly  to  suit  the  idea.  But  under  Louis  XIV.,  as 
is  shown  in  the  colonnade  of  the  Louvre,  the  imported  style  began 
to  be  the  master  of  the  architect,  and  his  primary  idea  was  to  im- 
itate a Roman  Corinthian  order,  without  concerning  himself  with 
the  reason  for  so  doing,  or  with  the  adaptability  of  the  order  to  the 
necessities  of  the  building  to  which  it  was  applied. 

This  fashion  of  reversing  architectural  composition  by  making 
the  most  direct  expression  of  a practical  requirement  secondary  to 
the  adoption  of  a style  is  the  most  fruitful  source  of  decay  in  archi- 
tecture. Experience  is  proving  this  in  the  fact  that  our  monu- 
ments are  daily  losing  more  and  more  the  characteristics  of  indi- 
vidual expression,  and  the  power  of  architecturally  manifesting  their 
use  or  destination.  Architectural  composition,  instead  of  being  a 
logical  deduction  from  the  different  elements  which  ought  to  make 
up  a building,  from  the  immediate  schedule  of  requirements,  from 
contemporary  habits,  tastes,  traditions,  materials,  and  workmanship, 
has  become  little  more  than  an  academical  formula.  This  method, 
based,  as  it  is,  not  upon  a correct  feeling  and  practice  of  art,  but 
upon  a theory  which  is  becoming  more  and  more  vague,  and  which, 
in  its  relations  to  its  followers,  is  an  undefined  mystery,  to  be  ap- 
proached by  processes,  not  of  discussion,  but  of  initiation,  this  ar- 
bitrary protectorate,  reared  upon  blind  submission  to  dogmas,  con- 
ducts architects  to  isolation  from  public  sympathy,  if  they  yield  to  it, 
or,  if  they  contend  against  it,  to  the  most  extravagant  fancies. 
Again,  it  has  the  graver  disadvantage  of  making  good  the  arguments 
of  practical  minds,  which  are  ready  to  see  in  works  of  art  only  a ru- 
inous and  useless  luxury,  interesting  only  a small  portion  of  society. 
Indeed,  how  can  we  defend  the  incommodious  splendors  of  most  of 
our  public  buildings  against  the  criticisms  of  those  who,  without  dif- 
ficulty, can  show  how  unreasonable  they  are,  who,  without  any  prac- 
tical acquaintance  with  architecture,  can  plainly  see  that  the  style 
and  forms  adopted  do  not  agree  with  the  practical  uses  they  are 
intended  to  subserve? 

It  has  already  been  noticed  that  a prevailing  characteristic  of 
Greek,  Roman,  and  mediaeval  architecture  was  the  pliability  of  style 
to  use,  so  that,  if  a Roman  private  house  did  not  resemble  a public 


354 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


building,  if  a temple  was  always  distinguishable  from  a basilica,  a 
theatre  from  a palace,  there  was  the  same  distinction  of  character 
between  the  churches,  châteaux,  hospitals,  town-halls,  palaces,  and 
private  houses  of  the  Middle  Ages.  If  mediaeval  architects  admitted 
symmetry  as  an  appropriate  element  in  monuments,  like  churches, 
which  had  a perfect  unity  of  destination,  they  excluded  it  from  the 
chateau,  which  was  but  an  agglomeration  of  apartments  devoted 
to  various  uses,  just  as  in  the  Roman  villa  the  several  pavilions 
and  buildings  which  composed  it  were  constructed  and  grouped, 
not  professedly  to  make  a symmetrical  architectural  composition,  but 
to  obtain  the  most  convenient  forms  and  dispositions.  Now,  with 
what  consistency  can  modern  architects  regard  that  which  they  con- 
sider admissible  in  a Roman  villa  as  bad  when  developed  in  the 
Middle  Ages  ? How  can  they  praise  the  architecture  of  Italy  under 
the  emperors  for  the  very  qualities  which  they  blame  in  that  of  the 
third  race  of  the  French  kings  ? It  is  because  they  have  preferred 
blindly  to  adopt  a ready-made  style,  presented  to  them  to  be  learned 
by  heart,  rather  than  a principle,  which,  to  be  understood,  requires 
a course  of  analytical  investigation  and  study,  and  which,  when  un- 
derstood, would  free  them  from  the  prejudices  of  schools  and  sects. 
They  do  not  like  to  think  that  the  forms  which  they  have  thus 
committed  to  memory,  as  the  main  end  of  their  education  in  art, 
are  really  but  a small  part  of  the  knowledge  to  be  acquired  before 
arriving  at  a thorough  understanding  of  the  principles  of  design. 

I refrain  from  treating  here  of  the  edifices  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
because  I have  elsewhere  explained  the  manner  and  theory  of 
their  development.*  But  I propose  to  consider  the  condition 
of  art  at  the  moment  when  it  entered  upon  what  we  understand 
as  its  modern  era,  and  when  the  influence  of  mediaeval  tradi- 
tions was  still  too  strong  to  be  shaken  off  in  a day.  I propose 
to  examine  the  buildings  of  the  sixteenth  century,  when  architecture 
seemed  to  have  reached  its  highest  point  in  science  and  workman- 
ship, when  society  was  undergoing  a great  moral  revolution  and 
breaking  free  from  the  last  ties  which  bound  it  to  secular  and  cler- 
ical  feudalism,  and  when  the  revival  of  ancient  learning  and  the 
study  of  the  antique  were  for  the  first  time  occupying  the  attentive 
and  serious  consideration  of  the  civilized  world. 

When  we  treat  of  the  history  and  practice  of  our  art,  we  find  preju- 


* See  “Dictionnaire  Raissonné  de  l’Arch.  Française  du  X'  au  XVIe  siècle.” 


EARLY  FRENCH  RENAISSANCE. 


355 


dices  to  combat  at  every  step  ; and  here,  at  the  very  outset,  we  en- 
counter a popular  error.  It  is  often  said  that  the  French  architects 
of  the  Renaissance  were  inspired,  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  by  the  arts  of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  and  even  that  some 
of  the  French  monuments  of  that  epoch  were  the  works  of  Italian 
masters.  The  latter  notion  has  been  lately  refuted  in  a triumphant 
manner  by  M.  de  la  Saussaye,  in  his  “ Notice  ” on  Chambord,  and 
by  M.  A.  Berty,  in  Les  Grands  Architectes  de  la  Renaissance.  It 
is  entirely  without  foundation  in  fact.  As  for  the  former  statement, 
it  needs  but  an  intelligent  glance  at  the  buildings  of  the  sixteenth 
century  to  see  that  they  are  Italian  neither  in  plan,  style,  nor  meth- 
ods of  construction,  and  that  French  art  followed  no  Italian  model. 
It  is  important  that  we  should  not  fall  into  the  common  error  of 
dating  back  the  French  Renaissance  only  to  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.,  for  even  before  1450  it  had  manifested  itself  plainly  and  in 
a manner  which  can  admit  of  no  doubt  regarding  its  purely  French 
inspiration.  Indeed,  it  would  be  no  easy  task  to  explain  the  ten- 
dency of  historians  to  derive  our  art  from  foreign  nations.  There 
are  provinces  of  France  where,  even  now,  all  the  Gothic  monuments 
are  attributed  to  the  English.  The  cathedral  of  Cologne,  which  in 
fact  is  but  an  imitation  of  those  of  Amiens  and  Beauvais,  and  fifty 
years  later  in  date,  has  for  a long  time  been  regarded  as  the  pro- 
totype of  Gothic  art  ; and,  finally,  it  is  said  very  often  that  the 
château  of  Chambord,  parts  of  the  Louvre  and  of  Fontainebleau, 
are  due  to  Italian  artists.  It  is  only  when  we  come  to  the  age  of 
Louis  XIV.  that  we  are  said  to  have  an  art  which  is  really  French. 
Now  it  was  precisely  at  this  time  that  we  began  to  lose  our  original- 
ity ; for  what  said  Philibert  de  l’Orme  to  his  contemporaries  of  that 
date  ? “ You  are  always  ready  to  prefer  foreign  to  domestic  things. 

Although  no  country  in  the  world  is  better  or  more  profusely  sup- 
plied with  building  materials  of  every  kind  than  France,  most  of 
you  find  nothing  good  but  what  comes  from  foreign  parts  and  costs 
very  dear.  It  is  a peculiarity  of  the  Frenchmen  of  our  day  to  set 
the  arts  and  artists  of  foreign  nations  above  their  own,  however 
excellent  and  ingenious  the  latter  may  be.” 

That  which  is  conventionally  styled  the  Renaissance  was  not  an 
accidental  fact,  to  be  retarded  or  advanced  at  will  and  subject  to 
political  events.  It  was  rather  a continuation  of  the  Roman  organ- 
ization, than  a return  to  a forgotten  system.  In  order  that  this 


35G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


singular  fact  in  the  history  of  nations  may  be  understood,  it  is 
necessary  to  glance  briefly  at  the  strange  condition  of  Europe  as  the 
Romans  made  it. 

In  the  first  century  of  our  era  we  have  observed  that  the  Roman 
Empire  was  made  up  of  elements  so  various  that  Ave  can  discover 
in  it  no  unity  either  of  spirit  or  race,  — nothing  but  a vast  political 
and  administrative  organization,  established  rather  to  check  than  to 
encourage  the  peculiar  tendencies  of  the  nations  under  its  yoke.  In 
fact,  after  Nero,  the  rotten  empire  was  only  sustained  by  barbarians, 
whether  by  the  force  of  their  arms  or  by  the  invigorating  influence 
of  the  elements  which  they  brought  to  the  support  of  that  effete  body 
of  which  Rome  was  the  centre.  Romans,  properly  speaking,  Avere 
finally  the  least  element  of  the  Roman  Empire  ; the  army,  the  gen- 
erals, the  senators,  and  the  emperors  themselves  Avere  at  this  epoch 
strangers  to  Rome,  and  often  to  Italy  itself.  I have  already  pointed 
out  this  fact  as  the  explanation  why  Rome  did  not  possess  a fine  art, 
but  rather  the  formulas  of  a vulgar  art  daily  tending  towards  de- 
cline. 

Recent  philosophical  investigations  in  Germany,  England,  and 
Erance  * have  accumulated  valuable  evidence  regarding  the  various 
and  distinctive  tendencies  of  the  three  great  branches  of  the  human 
race  in  mental  development.  But  Rome,  composed  as  it  AAras  from 
the  beginning  of  a confused  mixture  of  these  races,  Avas  never  able 
to  give  to  the  arts  it  controlled  the  clear  and  definite  impulse  of  a 
national  unity.  It  Avas  content  to  imitate  and  collect  the  arts  of 
Etruria,  of  the  Celto-Tyrrhenic  races,  of  Greece,  and  of  the  Semitic 
nations  of  Asia,  and  to  submit  them  to  the  organization  of  a power- 
ful  and  practical  government.  Out  of  this  amalgam  it  succeeded 
in  composing,  for  the  building  of  edifices  of  public  utility,  certain 
formulas  of  universal  application,  which,  for  the  very  reason  of  their 
universal  application,  possessed,  as  regards  style,  none  of  those 
marked  qualities  which  gave  character  to  the  arts  of  Egypt,  Asia 
Minor,  Greece,  and  Etruria.  When  the  German  tribes,  which  had 
preserved  their  peculiar  characteristics  comparatively  pure  from  for- 
eign elements,  ceased,  in  the  fourth  century,  to  guard  the  frontiers 
of  the  empire,  and,  mingling  xvith  the  barbarous  torrent  from  the 


* See  a résumé  of  these  investigations  in  “ L’Essai  sur  l’inégalité  des  Races  Humaines,”  hy 
M.  A.  de  Gobineau,  Paris,  Didot,  1855.  AVe  cannot  too  strongly  recommend  the  study  of  the 
questions  resolved  in  this  remarkable  work  to  architects  who  are  interested  in  the  history  of  art. 


INFLUENCE  OF  RACE  ON  STYLES. 


357 


North,  precipitated  themselves  upon  the  corpse  of  the  Roman  body 
politic,  that  great  political  and  administrative  organization  fell,  and 
with  it  fell  the  whole  system  of  Roman  art,  because  it  was  nothing 
more  than  a branch  of  that  organization.  Now  this  great  irruption, 
which  the  colleges  call  barbarian,  but  which,  as  it  breathed  the 
breath  of  a new  life  into  a mere  effete  and  exhausted  mass,  was  in 
reality  a most  meritorious  act  in  the  eyes  of  humanity,  had,  by  the 
intermingling  of  new  elements,  overflowing  with  the  principles  of  life, 
a peculiar  influence  over  art.  Although  the  Teutons,  the  Lombards, 
the  Tran  les,  the  Burgundians,  and  Goths  were  not  artists  when  they 
overran  Gaul,  Italy,  and  Spain,  it  is  no  less  certain  that  they  stirred 
up  a wholesome  art-movement  in  the  stagnant  pool  of  the  Roman 
Empire.  It  must  lie  admitted,  however,  that,  with  all  the  energy 
of  the  Arian  blood  which  they  infused  into  the  Roman  body,  the 
traditional  power  of  Rome  was  still  great  enough  to  cause  the 
Roman  monuments  to  be  respected  and  even  imitated  by  the  North- 
ern conquerors,  when  they  established  themselves  in  the  imperial 
provinces.  With  the  same  feeling,  Kloclowig  proclaimed  himself 
Augustus  ; and,  before  this  even,  the  first  barbarous  chiefs  were,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Roman  populations,  who  instinctively  regarded  all 
sovereignty  as  naturally  belonging  to  the  empire,  magistrates  insti- 
tuted under  the  authority  of  the  emperor. 

Now  Charlemagne  was  tilled  with  the  idea  of  restoring  this  Roman 
Empire,  and,  in  the  eighth  century  would  fain  have  forced  a Renais- 
sance which  in  the  fifteenth  century  established  itself  without  force. 
But,  under  Charlemagne,  the  Arian  elements  were  too  fresh  and 
powerful  to  make  this  retrograde  movement  possible;  and,  after  him, 
with  the  feudal  disintegration  of  the  empire  which  he  established, 
arose  arts  which  owed  but  little  to  the  Romans,  which  developed  in 
a contrary  direction,  arrived  at  rare  perfection,  and  always  expressed 
the  mixture  of  Arianism  with  those  Gallo-Roman  races,  which,  in  the 
northern  provinces  of  Trance,  where  these  arts  were  most  fruitful,  had 
hardly  lost  their  Celtic  purity.  In  order  to  establish  a Renaissance 
at  that  time,  or,  in  other  words,  in  order  to  dispose  Western  Europe 
to  return  to  the  political  and  administrative  ideas  of  the  Romans,  it 
would  have  been  necessary  to  absorb  the  element  of  the  white  races 
in  the  great  Roman  amalgam  ; a process  which  actually  took  place  in 
the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries. 

In  considering  the  Renaissance,  therefore,  not  in  its  details,  but  as 


358 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


a great  social  fact,  we  must  regard  it  as  a continuation  of  that  Roman 
organization  which  had  been  interrupted  for  several  centuries  by  the 
abundant  energy  of  the  powerful  races  of  the  North.  Now,  in  much 
earlier  times,  the  same  races  had  invaded  India,  Asia  Minor,  Egypt, 
Greece,  and,  on  two  separate  occasions,  Western  Europe.  By  what 
strange  contradiction,  then,  do  we  admire  the  Arians  who  became 
Greek  and  the  fathers  of  Greek  art,  and  treat  as  barbarians  the  Ger- 
man, Erankish,  and  Scandinavian  Arians  who,  infusing  new  life  into 
the  Roman  decline,  became  the  fathers  of  mediaeval  art?  I must 
admit  that  it  was  by  a peculiarly  happy  amalgamation  of  races  that 
the  Arian- Greeks,  become  Semitic,  were  enabled  in  antiquity  to  pro- 
duce arts  superior  to  any  which  have  been  or  will  ever  be.  But  if 
the  Arian  element,  as  mixed  with  the  Roman,  was  less  pure,  and  the 
conditions  of  amalgamation  less  favorable  for  art,  it  is  evident  that 
this  infusion  of  fresh  Northern  blood  revived  the  sinking  power  of 
Western  Europe,  gave  a new  force  to  its  social  state,  and  introduced 
a new  form  of  art. 

If  I shall  seem  to  have  spoken  of  the  Romans  more  severely  than 
they  deserve,  let  it  be  understood  that  I heartily  admire  the  Roman 
power,  in  so  far  as  it  was  a governing,  administrative,  and  military 
power  ; I have  no  less  admiration  for  Roman  legislation,  and  espe- 
cially for  the  respect  which  the  Romans  always  exhibited  for  every- 
thing clothed  in  a legal  form  ; but  as  regards  Roman  art,  I must  be 
permitted  to  class  it  far  beneath  that  of  the  beautiful  civilizations 
(beautiful  in  respect  to  art)  of  India,  Asia,  Egypt,  and,  above  all,  of 
Greece.  To  the  Romans  was  wanting  that  element  of  race,  with- 
out which  art  could  assume  no  original  or  distinctive  form  ; they 
were  marvellous  builders,  nothing  more.  Everything  but  the  mere 
construction  in  Roman  monuments  is  Greek,  Etruscan,  or  Asiatic, 
not  Roman.  So  in  poetry  ; there  is  no  real  Latin  epic,  and,  what- 
ever may  be  said  of  the  beauty  of  the  Æneid,  no  one  will  pretend 
to  say  that  it  is  a sincere  epic  poem.  It  is  evident  that  Virgil  did 
not  believe  a single  word  he  wrote,  no  more  than  the  Roman  ar- 
chitect of  the  time  of  Augustus  believed  in  the  orders  as  forms  con- 
secrated to  Diana  or  Apollo.  But  Homer,  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  the 
reciters  of  the  songs  of  the  Iliad,  firmly  believed  in  their  heroes  and 
identified  themselves  with  them  ; the  Iliad,  therefore,  profoundly 
moved  all  Greek  listeners  when  they  heard  it  for  the  first  time, 
and  so  long  as  there  remains  a thinking  being  in  the  world,  it  will 


I’l  W'i. 


ip— 

TP 

1 

1Ü 

fü 

sa 

M 

■ --i  M 

.xi 


THE  CHÂTEAU  OF  BOULOGNE,  CALLED  MADRID. 


PART  OF  PRINCIPAL  ELEVATION- 


i 


THE  A THAN  ELEMENT  IN  ARCHITECTURE.  359 


continue  to  be  the  most  lifelike,  most  sympathetic,  most  beautiful, 
most  sincere  and  noble  expression  of  die  emotions  of  the  human 
heart.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  also,  so  much  depreciated  by  all  the 
indiscriminate  admirers  of  the  Romans,  we  shall  find,  as  well  in  the 
plastic  arts  as  in  poetry,  some  rays  of  this  Arian  genius  of  the  Greeks. 
Thus  the  “ Song  of  Roland,”  which  dates  from  the  eleventh  century, 
compared  with  the  romances  of  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  cen- 
turies, is  as  Homer  to  Virgil  ; it  is  a sincere  epic,  not  a mere  work 
of  genius  ; a fragmentary  poem,  it  is  true,  and  expressed  in  imperfect 
language,  but  one  which,  in  grandeur  of  sentiment,  nobility  of  thought, 
and  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  can  often  bear  comparison  with 
the  very  best  passages  of  the  Iliad.  But  the  men  who  sang  and 
listened  to  this  song  were  certainly  no  descendants  of  the  Latin  races. 
In  respect  to  human  dignity,  in  respect  to  art,  they  were  infinitely 
superior  to  those  races,  especially  if  we  compare  them  with  the  last 
Romans  who  passed  their  time  in  writing  treatises  on  grammar,  lipo- 
graimnatic  poems,  epigrams,  madrigals,  and  all  the  petty  fancies 
which  were  so  much  in  vogue  during  the  decline  of  the  empire.  So 
also  the  western  monuments  of  the  twelfth  century,  notwithstanding 
the  rudeness  of  their  structure  and  even  the  practical  ignorance  of 
the  artists,  exhibit  a sincerity,  a feeling  for  truth,  a rigidity  of  princi- 
ples, a choice  of  form,  far  superior  to  that  degenerate,  weak,  uniform, 
vulgar  art  which  covered  the  Latin  soil  during  the  second  and  third 
centuries.  Assuredly,  the  idea  of  borrowing  such  an  effete  art  could 
never  have  entered  the  minds  of  men  who  were  much  better  adapted 
to  develop  true  art  than  the  Romans  ever  were,  even  at  the  moment 
of  their  greatest  splendor.  Although  less  polished  than  were  the 
Latins  of  the  Decline  of  the  Empire,  they  could  not  but  be  amazed 
and  delighted  in  the  presence  of  the  prodigious  remains  of  Roman 
power  ; but,  by  the  very  character  of  the  Gothic  blood  that  ran  in 
their  veins,  they  were  forbidden  to  imitate  them. 

The  first  step  towards  a return  to  Latin  arts  was  made  by  the  great 
revolution  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century,  when,  as  related  in  the 
preceding  Discourse,  the  domain  of  the  arts  passed  into  the  hands  of 
the  lay  architects,  that  is,  into  the  hands  of  Gallo-Roman  races,  some- 
what modified  by  the  Arian  element.  Although  the  architecture  of 
that  epoch  had  no  relations  with  Roman  architecture,  either  in  struc- 
ture or  form  ; although  the  modern  analytic  and  scientific  spirit  it 
exhibited  replaced  the  depraved  Latin  traditions  as  well  as  the  poetic 


300 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


conceptions  of  the  twelfth  century  ; yet  the  lay  architecture  of  the 
thirteenth  century  foreshadowed  the  fatal  fall  into  the  deep  grooves 
of  Roman  discipline  and  formalism.  Nevertheless,  the  Renaissance, 
and  the  French  Renaissance  especially,  preserved  enough  of  the  ele- 
ments which,  had  constituted  the  splendor  and  originality  of  mediaeval 
art  to  enable  it  still  to  maintain  an  important  place  in  the  history  of 
"YV  estera  Europe.  It  developed  under  favorable  conditions  which 
can  never  occur  again  ; but,  while  insisting  upon  the  increasing  vul- 
garity of  modern  art,  it  is  no  less  our  duty  to  do  all  we  can  to  arrest 
it  in  its  decline,  and  to  ascertain  if  there  are  not  yet  some  new  paths 
left  into  which  it  can  be  diverted. 

The  task  I have  taken  upon  myself  is,  I admit,  an  ungrateful  one  ; 
and  I would  much  prefer  to  share  in  the  happy  faith  of  those  who 
firmly  believe  that  the  art  of  architecture  is  in  the  path  of  progress, 
and  that,  from  the  state  of  uncertainty  and  transition  in  which  we 
are,  there  can  be  born,  as  happened  in  certain  epochs  of  antiquity,  - — 
in  the  thirteenth  century  and  in  the  sixteenth,- — an  original  and  new 
art,  perfectly  adapted  to  our  civilization  ; but  without  pretending  to 
state  definitely  that  this  new  birth  cannot  take  place,  I trust  I may 
be  allowed  to  doubt  it  and  to  give  the  reasons  why  I doubt. 

Architecture  has  been  brilliant  in  ancient  and  modern  history  only 
when  resulting  from  certain  social  shocks  occasioned  by  the  amalgama- 
tion or  antagonism  of  races,  an  amalgamation  or  antagonism  which  has 
a powerful  influence  over  all  intellectual  effort.  I do  not  see  that  we 
are  living  under  any  such  favorable  conditions.  We  possess  confused 
or  poorly  appreciated  traditions,  which  no  one  believes,  inexhaustible 
means  of  execution  and  powerful  industrial  resources  ; but  to  direct 
these  means,  to  employ  these  resources,  what  have  we  ? Denial  or 
neglect  of  the  most  simple  general  laws  ; the  exclusive  spirit  of  a 
school  or,  outside  of  that,  unrestrained  fancy  ; discussions  of  rival 
coteries  indifferent  to  the  public  ; ostracism  of  such  individualities 
as  may  attempt  to  tread  the  correct  path  of  architectural  progress  ; 
divisions  among  the  imitators  of  the  past,  quarrelling  about  formu- 
las, but  no  effort  to  unite  on  the  broad  field  of  principles.  But 
beneath  this  turmoil  in  the  republic  of  the  arts,  we  can  see  a certain 
patient  labor,  a conscientious  analytical  study  of  the  works  of  our 
forefathers,  the  basis  of  a new  doctrine  founded  upon  the  most  rig- 
orous principles,  not  upon  tradition,  and  analogous  to  the  move- 
ment which  released  art  from  the  seclusion  of  the  convents  in  the 


À NEW  STYLE  IMPRACTICABLE. 


301 


twelfth  century  to  place  it  in  the  hands  of  laymen  ; but  what  chance 
has  this  intelligent  democracy , in  its  efforts  to  emancipate  itself,  of 
obtaining  the  same  support  and  encouragement  that  our  ancestors 
had  under  the  same  circumstances?  Are  the  times  favorable  for  a 
similar  happy  issue  out  of  their  efforts  ? Does  the  public,  whose 
sensitiveness  to  art  is  blunted,  have  an  energetic  sympathy  in  the 
movement?  Have  we  not,  in  fine,  reached  a period  in  the  history 
of  art  bearing  some  resemblance  to  that  state  of  society  at  Byzantium, 
when  the  schools  disputed  while  the  barbarians  were  battering  at 
the  gates  ? 

In  all  questions  touching  the  domain  of  intelligence  there  must 
ever  be  a struggle  between  the  conservatism  which  holds  to  traditions 
and  the  reform  which  would  innovate  and  change.  The  lay  school 
of  the  twelfth  century  had  energy  enough  and  was  loyal  enough  to 
its  principles  to  be  able  in  a few  years  to  substitute  for  the  expir- 
ing traditions  of  the  monasteries  an  art  which  had  grown  up  in  its 
own  bosom,  and,  adopting  an  eminently  flexible  form,  lent  itself 
readily  to  all  the  uses  and  transformations  of  society.  But  this  art, 
the  issue  of  the  intellectual  emancipation  of  the  laborious  classes  of 
cities,  eminently  democratic  in  its  character,  establishing  investigation 
and  reason  in  the  place  of  theocratic  tendencies,  soon  fell  into  abuse 
of  its  own  principles  ; for  the  very  reason  that  it  was  democratic,  it 
could  not  correct  and  restrain  itself;  from  deductions  to  deductions 
it  at  length  arrived  at  a mere  geometrical  formula,  till,  at  the  end  of 
the  fourteenth  century,  it  reached  the  last  limits  to  which  its  princi- 
ples could  be  carried  ; and  then  there  was  but  one  resort  left  for 
architecture,  to  precipitate  itself  into  those  paths  which  had  been  so 
long  abandoned  by  the  Gallo-Roman  races.* 

The  Trench  architects  of  the  Renaissance  are  worthy  of  all  praise 
because,  although  reviving  the  forms  of  Roman  antiquity,  they  still 

* Everything  relating  to  the  history  of  art  in  France  is  so  confused,  that  we  find  the  defenders 
of  democratic  principles  condemning  that  which  we  call  Gothic  art  as  a reflection  of  feudalism. 
Now  the  men  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  Louis  XIV.  at  their  head,  were  much  more  con- 
sistent when  they  manifested  a dislike  for  this  art.  But  it  is  strange  to  see  liberals,  the  adver- 
saries of  despotism  and  jn’ivilege,  using,  in  this  respect,  the  same  arguments  as  the  great  king. 
As  art,  in  its  natural  growth,  is  one  of  the  most  energetic  manifestations  of  the  spirit  and  aspira- 
tions of  the  people,  Louis  XIV.  was  quite  consistent  in  seeking  to  crush  mediæval  architecture 
under  his  pseudo-Boman  monuments  ; but,  on  the  contrary,  those  who  advocate  democratic 
principles,  freedom  of  speech  and  thought,  are  certainly  not  consistent  in  remaining  blind  to  the 
fact  that  mediæval  architecture  is  pliant  to  all  the  transformations  of  free  society,  and  encourages 
that  judicious  employment  of  material,  means,  and  forces  which  is  now  so  generally  recognized 
as  the  final  expression  of  civilization. 


302 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


retained  their  own  individuality.  Still  inspired  by  the  natural  prac- 
tical spirit  of  the  nation,  they  continued  to  attach  great  importance  to 
the  material  and  means  at  their  disposal,  to  the  exigencies  of  contem- 
porary custom,  to  traditions,  to  the  influences  of  climate,  and  to  the 
convenience  of  those  for  whom  they  built.  Not  only  the  monuments 
of  this  time,  but  the  treatises,  especially  the  Traité  sur  T Architecture 
of  Philibert  de  l’Orme,  prove  to  us  how  faithful  they  were  to  these 
principles.  De  l’Orme,  in  his  book,"  lays  especial  emphasis  on  the 
conduct  of  works,  on  the  information  necessary  to  the  architect  and 
the  liberty  he  should  have  in  designing,  upon  the  proper  employ- 
ment and  selection  of  materials  and  the  arrangement  of  plans  with 
regard  to  aspect,  salubrity,  and  the  comforts  of  life,  with  practical 
advice  to  those  proposing  to  build.  “ I think  it  would  be  well  for  all 
architects,”  said  he,  “ to  concern  themselves  less  with  the  ornaments 
and  proportions  of  columns  and  façades,  when  they  build  houses,  and 
more  with  those  beautiful  rules  of  nature  touching  the  convenience, 
customs,  and  profit  of  the  inhabitants  ; for  decorations  and  enrich- 
ments are  made  only  to  gratify  the  eye,  and  add  nothing  to  the  health 
and  comfort  of  mankind.  Pray  observe  that,  for  the  want  of  proper 
arrangements,  dispositions,  and  accommodations  in  a house,  its  oc- 
cupants are  made  sick  in  body  and  mind,  and  subject  to  all  sorts  of 
discomforts  and  inconveniences,  which  they  often  cannot  account 
for.”  What  could  we  say  better  than  this  ? 

Philibert  de  l’Orme,  together  with  his  mediaeval  brethren,  regarded 
the  disposition  of  buildings  with  reference  to  the  points  of  the  com- 
pass as  one  of  the  first  conditions  of  composition,  and  it  is  to  the 
faithful  observance  of  this  principle  that  are  due  most  of  the  irregu- 
larities and  picturesqueness  for  which  the  châteaux  or  palaces  of  the 
Middle  Ages  are  distinguished.  Their  builders  were  not  unmindful 
of  the  traditions  of  antiquity  in  regard  to  this  point  of  site,  and  even 
in  regard  to  symmetry,  for  it  would  be  a mistake  to  suppose  that  they 
systematically  disregarded  ancient  precedent  in  this  respect.  Sym- 
metry is  a natural  desire  of  the  eye,  a desire  which  requires  to  be 
satisfied,  if  it  is  not  at  the  expense  of  the  positive  necessities  ol  life. 
Yet  it  is  certain  that  the  mediaeval  architects  did  not  have  the  same 
ideas  about  symmetry  that  were  prevalent  in  antiquity  ; they  aimed 
rather  to  obtain  a balance  of  masses  and  details,  than  their  identical 
repetition. 

* “L’Architecture”  of  Philibert  de  l’Orme  ; Paris,  1576. 


SYMMETRY  AND  BALANCE. 


363 


I consider  it  essential  to  explain  these  two  systems  as  clearly  as  I 
can.  They  each  of  them  have  their  advantages  and,  when  not  applied 
intelligently,  their  disadvantages.  It  has  already  been  stated  that  the 
Greeks,  while  they  submitted  each  separate  building  to  the  rules  of 
symmetry,  never  considered  it  necessary  to  apply  the  same  rules  to 
the  grouping  of  their  buildings,  especially  when  these  buildings  were 
devoted  to  different  purposes.  They  used  the  same  liberty  in  their 
private  houses,  which  were  composed  of  an  agglomeration  of  distinct 
compositions  arranged,  as  a whole,  without  regard  to  symmetry.  The 
Romans  also  admitted  this  wise  principle,  and  their  palaces  and  dwell- 
ings presented  suites  of  rooms  separately  symmetrical,  but,  in  combi- 
nation, composed  only  with  regard  to  convenience.  Profiting  by  the 
“ lay  of  the  land,”  they  occupied  it  with  plans  skilfully  fitted  together  ; ^ 
but  the  modern  idea  of  including  all  the  offices  and  dependencies  of 
the  household  in  an  envelope  of  uniform  aspect,  for  the  sake  of  what 
is  called  architectural  effect,  never  occurred  to  them. 

Thus  the  Palace  of  the  Cæsars  ou  the  Palatine  at  Rome  had  the 
air,  within  and  without,  of  a monumental  city,  of  a group  of  palaces, 
not  of  a palatial  unity  as  we  understand  it  to-day.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  the  imperial  seats  at  Spalatro,  Palmyra,  etc.  The  perspective 
views  of  domestic  architecture  presented  in  antique  paintings  always 
exhibit  a very  irregular  combination  of  regular  buildings  ; and  we 
cannot  find  in  all  antiquity,  especially  among  the  Greeks,  any  such 
architectural  dispositions  as  we  see  at  Versailles  or  the  Louvre,  at 
the  Place  Vendôme  or  in  the  Place  Louis  XV.,  with  the  buildings 
of  the  Garde-Meuble,  the  Rue  Royale,  and  the  Madeleine.  The 
plan  of  ancient  Rome  nowhere  exhibits  such  balanced  compositions 
of  public  establishments.  The  houses  were  symmetrical  only  as 
regarded  themselves,  and  so  far  as  the  practical  necessities  they  met 
and  the  shape  of  the  land  they  occupied  admitted.  Submitting 
themselves  to  the  same  principle  in  their  elevations,  the  Romans  had 
a separate  building  for  every  separate  office  or  dependency  of  domes- 
tic or  official  life  ; this  building  was  complete  in  itself,  had  its  own 
order,  its  own  roof,  and  the  height  most  convenient  for  its  own  desti- 
nation, without  any  compromise  for  the  sake  of  the  other  buildings 
with  which  they  might  be  connected  ; Roman  architecture  never  com- 
bined these  various  dependencies  under  the  same  roof,  in  order  to 
obtain  an  exterior  effect  of  uniformity,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Louvre. 

AA  hen,  therefore,  we  include  under  the  same  architectural  envelope" 


3G4 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


all  the  appurtenances  of  a great  establishment,  such  as  halls,  private 
apartments,  staircases,  vestibules,  ball-rooms,  reception-rooms,  chapels, 
galleries,  offices,  libraries,  or  museums,  we  must  not  suppose  that  we 
are  really  following  the  traditions  of  antiquity.  On  the  contrary,  in 
so  doing,  we  are  disregarding  these  traditions  much  more  than  did 
the  mediaeval  architects.  I am  not  arguing  about  this  matter  ; I 
am  simply  stating  facts  which  every  one  can  verify  for  himself.  A 
Roman  palace,  like  a royal  abode  of  our  own  days,  which  required 
great  halls  of  audience  and  ready  methods  of  communication,  as  well 
as  public  and  private  offices  and  habitable  apartments,  giving  accom- 
modation for  all  the  uses  of  state  and  for  all  the  comforts  of  domestic 
life,  presented  a programme  much  too  distinct  in  its  component  parts 
to  be  included  under  any  uniform  façade,  or  expressed  by  any  bal- 
anced masses,  without  inconvenience  or  violence  to  some  of  its  most 
essential  conditions.  If  we  imagine  that,  in  submitting  all  our  archi- 
tecture since  the  seventeenth  century  to  this  Procrustean  process  in 
order  to  obtain  symmetry,  we  have  been  developing  a real  Renais- 
sance of  ancient  traditions,  we  are  mistaken  ; or  if  we  think  that,  in 
so  doing,  we  have  made  an  innovation  which  is  a mark  of  progress 
in  advance  of  all  anterior  arts,  we  are  very  much  mistaken.  A e 
must  not  forget,  however,  that  the  Romans,  as  well  as  the  Greeks, 
always  evinced  a love  for  symmetry  or  balance  of  parts.  Thus,  if 
they  built  a temple  or  a room,  it  was  perfectly  symmetrical  within 
and  without  ; if  they  constructed  an  atrium,  a xystum,  a basilica, 
the  principal  axis  divided  the  whole  composition  into  two  identi- 
cal masses,  as  far  as  practicable.  The  same  principle  was  made  good 
in  details  ; all  the  capitals  of  the  same  order  were  exactly  alike,  as 
well  as  all  the  modillions  of  a cornice.  But  in  this  respect  we  see 
the  first  line  of  demarcation  between  antiquity  and  the  Middle  Ages  ; 
and  if,  in  the  château  of  the  fourteenth  century  as  in  the  antique 
villa,  the  various  dependencies  affected  forms  appropriate  to  their 
several  destinations,  the  architectural  details  were  infinitely  varied  in 
each  order  of  the  château,  while,  in  the  villa,  each  order  was  sub- 
mitted in  itself  to  the  strictest  uniformity  of  parts. 

But  we  should  not  deceive  ourselves  with  respect  to  the  effect  of 
this  uniformity  of  details  in  antique  architecture  ; it  is  much  less 
grand  and  imposing  than  we  are  led  to  suppose.  We  should  not 
place  too  implicit  faith  in  the  designs  for  the  restoration  of  ancient 
monuments  ; in  such  speculative  works  we  are  very  apt,  in  case  of 


FIDELITY  TO  STRUCTURE  IN  DESIGN. 


303 


doubt,  to  lean  towards  absolute  symmetry  ; whereas,  in  my  own 
experience,  I have  often  been  very  much  surprised,  when  examining 
the  ancient  monuments  of  Italy  and  France,  to  find  notable  irregular- 
ities just  where  these  theoretical  restorations  have  indicated  a condi- 
tion of  perfect  symmetry  ; and  these  irregularities,  so  far  from  being, 
in  every  instance,  the  consequence  of  an  unavoidable  necessity  of 
site,  often  seemed  rather  a concession  to  a detail  of  the  programme, 
or  to  a fancy  of  the  artist.  In  fact,  the  absolute  symmetry  of  archi- 
tectural combinations,  as  we  understand  it,  was  not  known  to  the 
Romans  ; a symmetry  of  details,  which,  however,  we  adopt  in  a much 
more  absolute  fashion  than  they,  did  exist  among  them,  but  with  a 
certain  liberty  which  the  academic  school  rejects  as  inadmissible. 
Now  this  academical  decision  is  a great  comfort  to  modern  archi- 
tects ; for  it  is  pleasant  to  think,  when  you  have  composed  a capital  or 
the  end  of  a frieze  in  one  day,  you  have  only  to  let  the  stone-cutters 
reproduce  your  composition  twelve  hundred  times  in  three  months. 
The  uneasy  spirits,  who  would  change  such  a charming  state  of 
things,  are  certainly  great  nuisances.  Indolent  routine  is  a sover- 
eign, powerful  in  the  multitude  of  its  subjects,  and  has  plenty  of 
advocates  ; so  it  is  folly  to  struggle  against  it. 

One  of  the  first  conditions  of  composition  among  the  Romans  was 
fidelity  to  the  nature  of  the  construction  employed.  The  different 
requirements  of  a vaulted  construction  and  of  a construction  covered 
by  a timber  roof  were  recognized  from  the  beginning.  Thus,  if  we 
examine  the  plans  of  the  baths  of  Antoninus  Caracalla  or  of  Dio- 
clesian,  we  can  not  only  comprehend  the  fact  that  these  structures 
were  composed  of  large  and  small  rooms,  all  vaulted,  but  can  even 
give  the  form  and  structure  of  each  vault  ; and,  in  the  same  manner, 
it  needs  but  a glance  at  the  plan  of  the  Ulpian  basilica  to  be  assured 
that  it  Avas  covered  by  an  open  timber  roof.  To  this  extent  did  the 
mode  of  construction  influence  the  architectural  compositions  of  the 
Romans.  More  than  this,  the  destination  of  an  edifice,  and  of 
all  its  parts  separately,  imposed  upon  them  certain  dimensions  and 
forms,  whether  as  regarded  surface  or  height.  This  is  evident,  not 
only  in  their  baths  and  palaces,  but  in  their  simplest  and  most  vul- 
gar edifices.  We  observe  the  same  correct  tendencies  in  mediaeval 
buildings,  although  different  in  form  and  construction.  In  both  cases 
the  structure  and  the  object  of  the  building  were  recognized  in  the 
plan  ; the  plan  governed  the  whole  ; here  was  the  supreme  effort  of 


3GG 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  architect,  for,  in  making  his  plan,  he  had  really  conceived  his 
whole  design,  and  all  the  subsequent  work,  the  arrangement  of  the 
details,  was  comparatively  easy  and  amusing.  What  especially  rec- 
ommends itself  in  Roman  and  in  good  mediaeval  monuments  is  the 
frankness  with  which  all  the  conditions  and  expedients  of  building 
were  accepted  and  confessed  in  the  design,  the  sincerity  with  which 
all  the  details  were  subordinated  to,  and  made  component  parts  of,  the 
general  conception,  the  clearness  of  the  conception  from  the  begin- 
ning, and  the  honesty  with  which  the  science  of  the  practitioner  or 
the  genius  of  the  artist  developed  this  conception  into  a perfect  ful- 
filment. 

Even  so  early  as  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century,  science 
began  to  take  the  place  of  the  individual  genius  of  the  artist  ; the 
methods  in  the  composition  of  general  designs  and  details  began  to 
be  circumscribed  by  geometrical  formulas,  very  ingenious,  indeed, 
but  tending  to  supplant  the  artist  by  the  practitioner.  It  was  at 
this  moment  that,  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire  and  in  Valois,  the  pow- 
erful  dukes  of  Orleans  became  the  protectors  of  a new  school  of  art, 
which  attempted  gradually  to  SAveep  aAvay  the  accustomed  forms  and 
characteristics  of  Gothic  art.  Thus,  in  1440,  the  Renaissance  first 
made  its  appearance,  and  buildings  began  to  be  covered  with  a neAV 
envelope  ; the  basis  of  design  remained  the  same,  the  essence  of  com- 
position was  not  modified,  but  still  remained  the  true  expression  of 
contemporaneous  manners  and  traditions.  But  the  form  AA^as  changed. 
This  movement  received  a powerful  impulse  when  one  of  the  mem- 
bers of  this  illustrious  branch  of  Valois,  Louis  XII.,  ascended  the 
throne.  But  if  architecture  then  assumed  a new  aspect,  if  it  freely 
borrowed  forms  and  motives  from  antiquity,  its  structure  as  Avell  as  its 
composition  remained  French,  and  reflected  the  political  and  social 
conditions  of  the  time.  Under  Francis  I.  even,  although  the  Gothic 
form  had  disappeared,  the  basis  of  design  Avas  hardly  modified. 
Chambord  Avas  still,  in  plan,  a mediaeval  château  ; the  abbey  of 
Thélême,  conceived  and  described  by  Rabelais,  Avas  yet  Gothic  ; and 
the  château  of  Boulogne,  called  Madrid,  which  at  that  time  seemed 
a bold  innovation,  bore  no  resemblance  either  to  a Roman  villa  or  to 
an  Italian  palace  of  the  sixteenth  century.  This  château  may  be 
regarded  as  the  first  example  of  a mixed  taste,  holding,  on  the  one 
side,  to  mediæval  traditions,  and,  on  the  other,  yielding  to  the  require- 
ments of  a court  which  Avas  ambitious  to  lay  aside  the  customs  of  the 


THE  CHATEAU  OF  BOULOGNE  (MADRID). 


3G7 


past.  Yet,  so  strong  is  the  prejudice  which  would  attribute  the 
buildings  of  the  French  Renaissance  to  Italian  artists,  that  a learned 
writer,  profoundly  versed  in  the  study  of  the  arts  of  the  Renaissance, 
M.  le  Comte  de  Laborde,  seems  to  believe  that  the  conception  of  the 
château  of  Boulogne  is  due  to  the  celebrated  Italian  potter,  Della 
Robbia.  At  the  same  time,  M.  le  Comte  de  Laborde,  like  a scrupu- 
lous historian,  does  not  entirely  efface  the  name  of  the  master-mason , 
Pierre  Gadier  ; but  in  this  case,  as  in  all  others,  quite  arbitrarily,  in 
my  opinion,  he  classes  the  French  artist  in  the  second  rank.  This  is 
what  he  says  about  the  construction  of  this  château  : — 

“ Jerome  Della  Robbia  was  the  creative  artist,  the  man  of  genius 
and  taste  [we  shall  presently  see  that  this  is  a gratuitous  supposi- 
tion] ; while  Pierre  Gadier,  the  master-mason,  the  submissive  work- 
man, [and  why  submissive  ?]  was  the  real  builder  ; and  if,  in  this 
association  of  two  men  so  variously  endowed,  art  was  on  one  side  and 
the  craft  on  the  other,  it  is  yet  possible  to  understand  and  define  the 
compromise  which  was  established  between  them.  J.  Della  Robbia, 
in  the  independence  of  his  imagination,  gave  to  the  arcades  of  his 
two  stories  an  uninterrupted  line,  and  to  his  apartments  a communi- 
cation by  means  of  a grand  staircase  ; Pierre  Gadier,  on  the  contrary, 
cut  this  façade,  two  hundred  and  sixty  feet  long,  into  three  parts  by 
means  of  pavilions,  which,  rising  to  the  full  height  of  the  building, 
presented  to  the  eye  their  plain  surfaces,  as  points  of  repose,  relieving 
the  uchness  of  the  decorated  parts  between,  and  serving  also  as  cages 
for  numerous  winding  stairs,  reminiscences  of  the  playthings  of  our 
mediaeval  architects.”  * 

After  reading  this  passage,  it  is  evident  that  the  title  of  master- 
mason  given  to  Pierre  Gadier  places  him,  in  the  estimation  of  M.  le 
Comte  de  Laborde,  in  the  rank  of  a contractor  or  of  a sort  of  subor- 
dinate commissioner.  But  this  title  of  master-mason  was  in  reality 
a designation  lately  given  to  architects.  Thus  Pierre  Trinqueau, 
architect  of  the  château  of  Chambord,  as  M.  de  la  Saussayef  has 
abundantly  proved,  had  the  title  of  master-mason,  and,  like  Gadier, 
had  “ charge  of  the  conduct  of  the  works.”  As  for  Della  Robbia, 
without  diminishing  his  merit  as  a potter  or  as  a decorative  sculptor, 
lie  could  have  perfectly  seconded  Pierre  Gadier  without  interfering 
with  his  freedom  as  an  architect.  I know  not  what  would  have  been 

* “ La  Renaissance  des  arts  à la  cour  de  France.” 

t Le  Château  de  Chambord,”  par  L.  de  la  Saussaye.  Lyon,  1859. 


308 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  conception  of  the  Italian  artist,  if  he  had  occupied,  in  this  work, 
the  position  which  M.  de  Laborde  calls  that  of  the  builder,*  of  whose 
craft  he  probably  was  entirely  ignorant  ; but  the  merest  glance  at  the 
plans  and  elevations  of  the  chateau  of  Boulogne  proves  that  the  souve- 
nirs of  Italy  had  no  great  influence  over  the  idea  of  that  edifice.  I 
should  be  ready  to  acknowledge  this  influence,  if  any  one  would  name 
a single  Italian  palace  which  appears  to  be  the  prototype  of  this 
building.  There  were,  indeed,  porticos  both  at  Boulogne  and  in  the 
palaces  of  Italy  ; but  this  feature  had  already  appeared,  not  only  in 
French  chateaux  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  but  in  build- 
ings of  every  age  and  country.  Moreover,  these  potters  were  never 
employed  to  decorate  an  entire  façade  in  Italy;  we  owe  this  new 
application  of  a foreign  art  to  Francis  I.  or  to  his  humble  master- 
mason.  It  is  Avorthy  of  remark  that  F.  Gadier  died  in  1531,  and  that 
Gratien  François  and  subsequently  Jean,  his  son,  succeeded  Gadier, 
neither  of  them  Italians.  De  l’Orme  continued  the  work,  and  em- 
ployed Pierre  Courtois  de  Limoges  to  finish  the  decoration  in  faïence. f 
As  for  those  winding  stairs,  stigmatized  as  reminiscences  of  th c jjl a y- 
things  of  the  Middle  Ages,  they  proved  to  be  very  useful  playthings 
when  it  was  necessary  to  mount  to  an  upper  floor  in  a restricted  space  ; 
it  would  be  much  more  reasonable  to  give  the  name  of  great  playthings 
to  those  double  winding  stairs,  ascending  one  over  the  other,  which 
occupy  a useless  place  in  so  many  of  our  old  chateaux,  and  which, 
by  their  exaggerated  monumental  aspect,  remind  one  of  those  pre- 
ambles of  the  poets,  announcing  in  pompous  verse  beautiful  things 
which  they  never  give  us.  Roman  architecture,  which  we  willingly 
cite  as  a model  to  follow,  gave  to  staircases  only  a very  secondary 
importance  ; and  winding  stairs  were  not  employed  much  before  the 
example  of  Saint-Gilles.  Primaticcio,  it  is  true,  was  charged  with 
the  completion  of  Boulogne,  and  naturally  called  to  his  assistance  his 
countryman  Della  Robbia,  the  potter.  But,  however  this  may  be, 
and  notwithstanding  these  potters,  Boulogne  is  a French  château  in 
plan,  elevation,  construction,  architectural  details,  and  interior  arrange- 
ment. 

The  composition  of  this  château  deserves  therefore  to  occupy  our 

* This  distinction,  established  by  one  of  the  most  enlightened  amateurs  of  the  French  arts, 
between  the  creative  artist  and  the  builder,  proves  clearly  enough  how  little  the  art  of  architec- 
ture is  known  and  appreciated  in  our  time. 

+ See,  in  the  excellent  work  of  M.  A.  Berty,  “ La  Renaissance  monumentale  en  France,”  the 
notice  of  the  château  of  Madrid. 


THE  CHATEAU  OF  BOULOGNE  (MADRID).  369 


especial  attention,  inasmuch  as  it  served  as  a prototype  for  all  those 
beautiful  country-seats  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  so 
remarkable  in  France  both  for  their  convenience  of  arrangement  and 
their  style  of  architecture.  The  château  of  Boulogne,  of  which,  in 
Plate  XV.,  we  give  the  plan  of  the  principal  floor,  had  a half-subter- 
ranean vaulted  basement,  a first,  second,  third,  and  fourth  story,  and 
a story  under  the  Mansard  roof.  At  Paris,  a northern  aspect  is  bad  ; 
therefore,  to  avoid  this,  the  architect  was  careful  to  plant  his  chateau 
so  that  all  its  principal  façades  should  in  turn  face  the  sun.  The 
principal  requirement  of  a lordly  mansion  at  that  time  was  a great 
central  hall,  a place  of  reunion,  accessible  to  all,  with  its  dais  or 
reserved  space  for  the  lord  of  the  manor  and  his  immediate  family  ; 
then  came  independent  suites  as  needed,  comprising  each  a great 
chamber  and  a wardrobe,  a room  corresponding  to  our  modern  dress- 
ing-room and  boudoir.  There  were  also  required  numerous  inde- 
pendent staircases,  plaything s,  if  you  please,  but  playthinys  which 
should  enable  every  member  of  the  household  to  go  in  and  out  of  his 
apartments  without  observation.  These  were  traditions  of  the  feudal 
house. 

The  plan  of  the  chateau  of  Madrid  conforms  exactly  to  this  pro- 
gramme. At  A is  the  great  central  hall,  with  its  dependency  B,  in 
the  middle  of  which  is  built  the  great  chimney  C,  around  which  a 
large  number  of  people  could  gather  and  be  seated.  The  architect 
even  took  the  precaution  to  open  a narrow  passage  behind  the  chim- 
ney at  D,  in  order  to  enable  people  to  pass  from  one  side  of  the  room 
to  the  other  without  incommoding  those  who  were  seated  about 
the  fireplace,  occupying  the  whole  space  between  it  and  the  great 
door.  A small  staircase  E,  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall,  formed  a 
means  ot  communication  between  this  room  and  the  one  above.  At 
k and  I we  find  eight  great  chambers,  with  their  eight  wardrobes 
G,  each  suite  being  independent,  and  all  having  access  to  the 
porticos  or  galleries  II,  or  to  the  great  hall.  At  I are  six  staircases 
ascending  the  whole  height  of  the  building,  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  various  suites  and  the  porticos  or  galleries.  Moreover,  the 
chambers  F'  have  a common  antechamber  K.  The  porticos  H be- 
fore these  apartments  are  so  shallow  and  open  as  to  deprive  them 
ot  no  air  or  light,  and  at  the  same  time  they  serve  as  covered  cor- 
ridors to  enable  people  to  pass  from  one  part  of  the  house  to  the  other 
without  the  necessity  of  going  through  the  various  suites.  The  por- 
24 


370 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


ticos  arranged  in  front  and  rear  of  the  great  hall  are,  on  the  contrary, 
very  spacious,  add  greatly  to  its  attractions,  and  furnish  an  ample 
exterior  sheltered  promenade.  In  opening  doors  and  windows  in  the 
walls,  the  architect  had  regard  solely  to  the  convenience  of  the  apart- 
ments ; and,  although  he  sought  to  give  to  the  mass  of  his' building 
a perfectly  symmetrical  aspect,  he  troubled  himself  little  to  make  the 
axes  of  his  piers  between  the  windows  correspond  with  those  of  the 
columns  of  the  porticos.  Nor  did  he  hesitate  to  open  oblique  pas- 
sages giving  communication  between  the  porticos  or  chambers  and 
the  staircases  or  wardrobes  at  the  angles  of  the  building,  thus 
affording  ample  accommodation  for  ready  circulation  and  the  service 
of  the  household.  This  is  a tradition  of  the  feudal  castle  ; doors, 
windows,  and  passages  are  arranged  with  a single  regard  for  domestic 
convenience  and  comfort,  even  at  the  expense  of  a corner  of  a room 
lopped  off,  a doorway  cut  obliquely  through  a wall,  or  a centre  line 
disarranged.  In  elevation,  the  artist  remedied  this  fault  of  irregu- 
larity (if  fault  it  be)  by  arrangements  of  detail,  which  furnished  him 
with  unexpected  and  charming  motives,  although  they  are  of  a char- 
acter perhaps  not  to  be  enjoyed  by  artists  devoted  to  the  worship 
of  what  is  called  the  academic  plan.  Two  broad  staircases  descend 
from  the  whole  width  of  the  porticos  on  both  sides  of  the  main  hall 
to  the  level  of  the  terrace  on  which  the  château  is  built.  This  is 
another  tradition  of  the  feudal  castle.  Now  this  fashion  of  disposing 
a portico  before  a wall  pierced  with  windows,  without  manifesting 
any  desire  to  make  the  windows  appear  opposite  the  openings  of  the 
portico,  is  older  than  feudalism  ; it  was  common  in  Greek  architec- 
ture. As  all  the  porticos,  excepting  those  of  the  central  division  of 
the  building,  are  narrow,  they  need  no  vaulting,  but  merely  flat 
panelled  ceilings  made  of  stone  lintels  and  a filling  in  of  glazed 
bricks,  thus  dispensing  with  any  constructional  necessity  of  having 
pilasters  against  the  wall  to  correspond  with  the  columns  of  the  por- 
ticos. But  with  the  central  porticos  the  case  is  different,  their  supe- 
rior breadth  rendering  it  necessary  to  throw  transverse  arches  across 
from  the  piers  to  the  wall  where  they  are  received  by  pilasters,  thus 
requiring  the  windows  of  that  part  of  the  building  to  be  disposed 
opposite  the  centres  of  the  openings  of  the  porticos.  The  influence 
of  the  Gothic  tradition  may  also  be  recognized  in  the  angle-pavilions, 
which  flank  the  façades  and  give  lightness  and  movement  to  the 
masses  of  construction  between. 


THE  CHATEAU  OE  BOULOGNE  (MADRID). 


371 


In  the  château  of  Madrid,  therefore,  we  find  the  perfect  fulfilment 
of  the  following  essential  conditions  of  a royal  lodge  of  that  period  : 
first,  an  excellent  disposition  of  the  building  with  regard  to  the 
points  of  the  compass  ; second,  a large  number  of  suites  of  apartments 
grouped  as  near  as  possible  to  a great  central  hall  of  reunion  ; third, 
convenience  of  service  and  ready  communications  ; fourth,  rooms 
which  can  be  placed  en  suite  or  kept  independent  ; fifth,  thick  walls 
and  deep  rooms  to  obtain  coolness  in  summer  and  warmth  in  winter  ; 
sixth,  porticos  sheltered  from  the  winds  by  the  projection  of  the 
angle-pavilions,  narrow  but  with  wide  openings,  so  as  not  to  exclude 
too  much  light  from  the  windows;  seventh,  a vaulted  and  well-lighted 
basement  for  offices  and  kitchens.  For  a prince  like  Francis  I.,  this 
was  not  a royal  residence,  like  Fontainebleau  or  Chambord  ; it  was 
rather  a pavilion,  where  he  could  sojourn  with  a small  and  select 
court  ; but  it  was  a charming  retreat,  surrounded  by  a park  about 
five  miles  in  circumference  ; and,  with  a few  modifications  of  detail,  it 
would  still  be  found  in  all  respects  a magnificent  château,  convenient 
and  comfortable  even  for  modern  usages.  The  story  above  the  one 
which  we  have  described  is  nearly  identical  with  it  in  plan. 

The  elevation  of  this  château,  of  which  we  give,  in  Plate  XVI.  two 
thirds  of  one  of  the  principal  façades,  is  a complete  and  faithful  ex- 
pression of  the  plan.  All  the  interior  dispositions,  even  to  the  number 
and  character  of  the  apartments,  are  plainly  written  upon  the  exterior. 
The  general  outline  is  very  happy,  and  the  whole  architectural  mass, 
enlivened  and  made  brilliant  by  enamelled  terra-cotta  or  encaustic 
tiles,  inserted  in  the  friezes,  in  the  spandrels  between  the  archivolts, 
in  the  pediments  of  the  windows,  in  the  string-courses,  and  in  the 
upper  piers,  is,  as  it  were,  supported  and  enclosed  by  pavilions,  pre- 
senting solid  points  at  the  angles. 

Now  this  château  bears  no  resemblance  to  ancient  Roman  archi- 
tecture, nor  does  it  recall  the  Italian  palaces  of  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  centuries,  either  at  Florence,  Rome,  Venice,  Sienna,  Brescia, 
Verona,  or  Padua  ; nor  yet  is  it  like  a lordly  residence  of  the  best 
feudal  times  ; but,  if  its  prototype  is  to  be  found  anywhere,  we  must 
seek  for  it  among  those  old  French  mansions,  so  well  adapted  to 
the  wants  of  those  who  built  them,  but,  ruined  ,-tnd  neglected  as  they 
are,  now  so  little  known  and  appreciated. 

If  we  would  realize  the  character  of  the  more  familiar  court  of 
Francis  L,  we  shall  find  it  nowhere  so  plainly  expressed  as  in  this 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


372 


château  of  Boulogne.  In  the  arrangement  of  its  apartments  it  im- 
plies brilliant  reunions  of  a select  assembly,  and  yet  the  complete 
independence  which  each  member  could  enjoy  at  his  will.  Each 
guest  could  leave  his  apartment  and  enter  the  gardens  without  his 
absence  being  noted.  This  independence  may  be  remarked  even  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  great  central  hall,  which  is  repeated  in  the 
story  above  ; for  if  the  sovereign  desired  to  be  surrounded  by  only  a 
small  number  of  his  courtiers,  he  withdrew  to  the  smaller  adjoining 
apartment  B,  while  the  other  members  of  the  court  were  left  free  to 
enjoy  themselves  and  converse  in  the  principal  hall.  During  the 
heat  of  the  day  the  porticos  facing  the  northeast  afforded  a cool 
promenade  ; or,  if  the  weather  was  cold,  those  opening  towards  the 
southwest  enabled  them  to  exercise  in  the  sunshine  ; in  both  cases, 
the  projections  of  the  narrow  pavilions  or  turrets  sheltered  the  prome- 
naders  from  the  wind.  From  these  porticos  there  was  easy  access  to 
all  the  rooms  of  state  and  private  apartments  of  the  household  in  every 
story.  It  is  evident,  from  the  ingenuity  of  these  dispositions  and 
their  accommodation  to  especial  habits,  that  a carefully  conceived 
programme  of  requirements  had  been  imposed  upon  the  architect. 


Fig.  75. 


The  scrupulous  exactness  with  which  the  architect  observed  all  the 
conditions  of  tins  programme,  and  yet,  although  under  such  restraints, 
the  elasticity  and  docility  of  the  architecture  he  employed,  and  his 
individual  independence  in  employing  it,  are  matters  which  deserve 
our  especial  study. 


CHÂTEAUX  OE  CHAMBORD  AND  LA  MUETTE. 


373 


The  château  of  Chambord  (Fig.  75,  scale  one  demi-millimètre  to 
the  mètre)  presents  an  analogous  plan,  although  on  a much  larger 
scale  and  under  conditions  more  monumental  : a grand  central  hall 
or  corps-de-garde  in  the  form  of  a cross,  with  a gigantic  double  wind- 
ing staircase  in  the  middle,  giving  access  to  each  story  ; and  then, 
to  each  story  of  the  central  hall,  two  stories  of  small  apartments,  each 
suite  having  its  separate  staircase  and  access  to  the  central  hall. 
The  construction  of  this  preceded  that  of  Boulogne  by  several  years. 
The  chateau  of  La  Muette,  on  the  contrary,  on  a scale  smaller  even 
than  that  of  Madrid,  furnishes  us  with  a plan  conceived  after  very 
nearly  the  same  programme. 

The  chateau  of  La  Muette  (Fig.  70,  scale  two  millimetres  to  the 
mètre)  was  also  built  by  Francis  L,  “ who,”  said  Du  Cerceau,  “ after 
having  built  the  château  of  Saint-Germain-en-Laye,  and  finding  it  very 
much  to  his  taste,  chose  a site  in  the  neighboring  forest  about  two 
leagues  from  the  said  château,  near  a little  marsh,  the  retreat  of  the 
wild  game  when  wearied  with  the  chase  ; and  he  built  there  this 
hunting-lodge  for  his  convenience  when  in  at.  the  death,  and  called  it 
La  Muette , as  it  was  a secret  place,  shut  in  on  all  sides  by  the  close 
forest.  Nevertheless,  as  it  was  right-royally  built,  it  was  not  so 
retired  and  concealed  as  the  name  would  seem  to  imply,  for  its  height 
arose  far  above  the  surrounding  trees.”  Under  these  circumstances, 
the  requirements  for  this  royal  lodge  must  have  been  dictated  by  the 
prince  himself,  in  his  desire  to  have  in  the  heart  of  the  forest  a tran- 
quil retreat,  where  he  might  repose  and  enjoy  himself  with  a few 
intimate  friends  after  the  fatigues  of  a day  of  chase  ; and  we  shall  find 
that  the  singular  arrangement  of  this  lodge  exactly  satisfied  all  these 
conditions. 

The  first  floor  was  raised  upon  a basement  which  was  occupied  by 
the  domestic  offices  of  the  establishment.  The  entrance  of  the  château 
was  at  A,  to  which  access  was  obtained  by  a little  bridge  thrown  over 
the  moat.  On  each  side  of  the  passage  B was  a staircase,  with  a 
common  landing-place  over  the  passage  ; to  this  we  shall  have  occa- 
sion presently  to  return.  From  the  passage  B,  by  one  of  those  oblique 
entrances  which  were  so  common  in  those  days,  entrance  was  obtained 
into  the  great  hall  C,  which  had  windows  on  three  sides,  two  balco- 
nies, two  chimney-places,  two  doors  giving  access  to  two  state  bed- 
chambers, and  another  door  opening  into  the  chapel  D.  From  the 
passage  B,  by  the  uncovered  galleries  or  balconies  E,  communication 


374 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


was  obtained  on  either  side  with  winding  staircases,  ascending  the 
whole  height  of  the  edifice,  or  with  the  apartments  F,  each  including 
a bedchamber,  a garde-robe  or  boudoir  G,  and  a closet  H.  Each 
boudoir  and  each  chamber  was  supplied  with  a fireplace.  From  one 

Tig.  76. 


I'-'-1-1!- 


10 

-1-^-'  I 


£0 

— 1 


of  these  suites,  as  well  as  from  the  great  hall,  there  was  direct  com- 
munication with  the  apartment  I,  also  containing  a boudoir  K and  a 
closet  L.  Two  other  suites  M,  equally  complete,  were  accessible  from 
the  hall,  from  the  apartment  N,  or  from  the  exterior  by  means  of 
winding  stairs,  which  descended  to  the  basement,  thus  enabling  the 


CHATEAU  OF  LA  MUETTE. 


375 


guests  to  obtain  independent  ingress  and  egress  without  the  neces- 
sity of  passing  through  the  more  public  apartments.  The  communi- 
cation obtained  by  means  of  the  balconies  or  open  galleries  E and 
O with  the  four  winding  staircases  were  necessary,  as  the  principal 
hall  was  two  stories  in  height  ; or,  in  other  words,  as  there  were  only 
three  superimposed  halls  to  five  stories  of  other  apartments  : thus,  of 
the  first  four  stories  of  apartments,  two  were  included  in  the  height 
of  the  main  hall,  and  two  in  that  of  the  corresponding  hall  above  it. 
This  same  arrangement  occurs  at  Chambord,  and  it  is  certainly  a very 
proper  one  ; for  a height  appropriate  to  a room  thirty  by  sixty  feet 
would  be  inappropriate  for  an  apartment  twenty-four  feet  square.  This 
disposition  of  the  great  halls  in  lui  Muette,  each  occupying  two  stories 
of  the  smaller  apartments,  was  frankly  indicated  on  the  exterior  by 
the  arcades  on  the  façade  a b.  In  this  connection  it  is  proper  to  state 
that  the  construction  of  La  Muette  was  similar  to  that  of  the  old 
chateau  of  Saint-Germain-en-Laye  ; it  was  built  in  great  part  of  brick, 
and  consisted,  as  regarded  the  central  pavilion  or  main  body  of  the 
lodge,  of  arches  resting  on  buttresses  and  sheltering  the  windows  and 
balconies.  As  at  Saint-Germain  also,  all  the  upper  story  was  vaulted 
(thus  accounting  for  these  buttresses  and  for  the  unusual  thickness  of 
the  walls),  and  the  whole  was  roofed  with  a terrace  of  flag-stones  for 
the  convenience  of  those  desiring  to  enjoy  a view  of  the  forest.  The 
grand  double  staircase  served  equally  as  a means  of  communication 
with  the  three  stories  of  principal  halls  or,  by  means  of  the  interme- 
diate landing-places  and  of  the  central  passage,  with  the  five  stories 
of  apartments. 

In  the  composition  of  this  plan  we  discover  evidences  of  the  same 
ingenuity  which  the  mediaeval  architects  exhibited,  when  they  built 
châteaux  to  serve  the  double  purpose  of  fortresses  and  pleasure-houses  ; 
yet  already  we  can  see  signs  of  a tendency  for  symmetrical  disposi- 
tions becoming  arbitrary  in  their  artificial  requirements,  and,  above 
all,  for  certain  new  theories  in  design,  showing  a studied  effort  to 
break  away  from  the  influence  of  traditions. 

But,  during  this  sixteenth  century,  a brilliant  era  of  activity  and 
agitation,  very  many  enterprises  were  begun  and  but  few  completed, 
and  it  would  be  unfair  to  form  opinions  regarding  its  architecture  so 
often  presenting  itself  to  us  in  unfinished  conceptions  or  in  detached 
portions  of  extensive  designs  which  were  never  executed.  Thus  we 
can  form  no  idea  of  what  the  Louvre  of  Francis  I.  or  of  Henry  II. 


376 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


would  have  been  if  completed.  The  original  general  plan  of  the 
Renaissance  palace  does  not  exist,  and  perhaps  it  never  did  exist,  for 
the  new  constructions  only  arose  to  till  the  vacancies  occasioned 
by  the  gradual  demolition  of  the  Gothic  Louvre  of  Philip  Augustus 
and  Charles  V. 

Other  great  palaces,  like  those  of  Blois,  Fontainebleau,  or  Amboise, 
were  only  ancient  castles  appropriated  to  new  uses,  whose  primitive 
plans  therefore  underwent  but  unimportant  modifications.  The  château 
of  Saint- Germain-en-Laye  even,  although  entirely  rebuilt  in  every 
part,  excepting  the  chapel,  which  was  of  the  thirteenth  century,  was 
certainly  nothing  more  than  a modern  superstructure  built  upon  the 
foundations  and  basements  of  the  old  feudal  castle.  It  was  not  a 
conception  belonging  properly,  in  plan,  to  the  Renaissance. 

In  1564,  Catharine  de  Medici,  disinclined  to  live  longer  in  the 
château  of  Tournelles,  where  Henry  II.  died,  selected  for  her  abode  a 
mansion,  long  celebrated  for  its  salubrious  position,  outside  the  city 
and  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  where  the  Duchess  of  Angoulême, 
mother  of  Francis  I.,  had  recovered  her  health.  This  mansion  re- 
ceived its  name  from  the  tile-kilns  (tuileries)  which  had  been  estab- 
lished in  its  neighborhood  since  the  year  1372.  Catharine  purchased 
this  mansion,  together  with  the  lands  which  surrounded  it,  and  Phil- 
ibert de  l’Orme  was  commissioned  to  construct  there  a vast  palace 
destined  for  the  accommodation  of  the  queen-mother.  The  plan  of 
the  first  floor  of  this  palace  has  been  preserved  by  Du  Cerceau  in 
his  great  work,  Des  plus  excellons  bastimens  de  France.  This  is,  in 
fact,  a very  singular  design,  largely  composed,  in  which  the  influence 
of  antiquity  at  length  makes  its  appearance  in  the  most  emphatic 
manner,  and  French  tradition  seems  quite  effaced.  It  is  not  easy  to 
understand  how  the  requirements  of  a princely  mansion  of  that  time, 
as  expressed  in  the  châteaux  just  described,  could  have  been  satisfied 
by  a grand  plan  so  monumental  in  its  character  and  so  unpractical  in 
its  distributions.  Philibert  de  l’Orme  was  enabled  (see  Plate  XA  II.) 
to  build  only  that  part  of  his  grand  design  comprised  between  the 
letters  A and  B on  the  garden  side  ; and  even  this  has  been  so  modi- 
fied by  subsequent  constructions  that  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  find 
traces  of  the  original  conception  there.  As  a whole,  this  place  recalls 
rather  an  Asiatic  palace  than  a French  château.  It  must  have  been 
the  intention  of  the  architect  to  arrange  suites  of  apartments  above 
the  immense  galleries  C.  But  the  troubles  of  the  League  forced 


THE  TUILERIES  OF  CATHARINE  HE  MEDICI. 


377 


Catharine  to  suspend  the  works,  and  she  never  lived  in  her  palace 
of  the  Tuileries.  However  impracticable  the  plan  of  Philibert  de 
l’Orme  may  have  been,  it  must  be  admitted  that  this  palace  would 
have  been  far  more  habitable  than  the  present  palace  of  the  Tuileries 
is,  with  its  endless  galleries,  divided  by  transverse  partition-walls, 
without  fitting  accommodations  for  service,  without  great  halls  of 
reunion,  without  passages  or  corridors,  and  without  convenient  stair- 
cases. 

Let  us  glance  at  this  composition.  The  principal  entrance  of  the 
palace  was  to  have  faced  the  city  at  D,  very  near  where  the  trium- 
phal arch  now  stands,  built  by  Percier  and  Fontaine.  We  find  in 
the  plan  a great  court  of  honor  E,  bordered,  in  this  story,  on  two 
opposite  sides  by  porticos  or  open  galleries.  Four  smaller  courts, 
two  on  each  side  of  the  main  court,  were  probably  destined  for  the 
service  of  the  palace,  and  were  separated  by  two  amphitheatres;  but 
what  purpose  these  amphitheatres  were  intended  to  subserve  I cannot 
tell,  unless  they  were  to  have  been  for  the  fêtes  or  ballets  then  so 
much  in  vogue.  One  of  them  was  perhaps  intended  for  a circus  or 
manège.  The  great  hall  was  at.  F,  and  its  arrangement  is  very  beau- 
tiful. Access  was  obtained  to  the  royal  apartments  by  the  ascent  of 
a magnificent  staircase,  which  was  extant  so  late  as  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  The  porticos  H,  opening  on  the  garden,  carried 
a terrace,  which,  although  considerably  modified  in  its  disposition, 
still  exists.  But  without  discussing  the  value  or  authenticity  of  the 
plans  which  Du  Cerceau  has  left  us  (and  I am  inclined  to  think  that, 
in  execution,  Philibert  de  l’Orme,  who  was  essentially  a practical 
man,  would  have  subjected  them  to  material  changes),  let  us  select  a 
portion  of  the  garden  front,  and  examine  its  composition  in  detail 
(Plate  XVIII.). 

As  regards  art,  we  are  so  much  accustomed  to  exaggerations,  so 
prone  to  accept  size  for  grandeur,  costly  elaboration  for  enrichment, 
noise  for  harmony,  that  it  is  difficult  to  find  a true  standard  of  criti- 
cism, which  will  enable  us  to  appreciate  that  which  is  delicate,  chaste, 
refined,  and  conceived  in  really  good  taste.  Now  Philibert  de  l’Orme 
was  endowed,  beyond  any  of  his  contemporaries,  with  the  surest  taste, 
the  truest  sentiment,  and  the  severest  principles.  This  is  evident,  not 
only  from  his  works  as  a practical  architect,  but  from  his  treatises  as 
an  architectural  writer.  To  these  we  cannot  too  often  refer  for  in- 
struction in  times  like  ours,  when  true  art  has  so  sadly  gone  astray, 


378 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


abandoned,  as  it  is,  to  the  strangest  caprices,  or  to  routines  little  in 
accordance  with  modern  culture  and  ingenuity.  In  the  works  of 
Philibert  de  l’Orme  we  perceive  evidences  of  a careful  and  attentive 
study  of  proportions,  and  a harmony  in  the  mutual  relations  of  the 
various  parts,  which  is  apparently  simple  and  easy,  but  which,  in 
reality,  is  the  result  of  a perfect  knowledge  of  his  art  and  of  the 
means  placed  at  his  disposal.  As  regards  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries, 
in  the  composition  of  the  portico  of  the  first  floor,  on  the  garden  front 
A B,  we  can  see  a singularly  happy  example  of  French  genius,  ex- 
pressed not  so  much  in  any  especial  novelty  or  freshness  of  invention 
as  in  its  peculiar  elegance  and  refinement. 

As  a whole,  this  gallery  is  a composition  borrowed  from  the  arts  of 
ancient  Rome  ; but  the  French  artist  is  apparent  in  the  peculiar  struc- 
ture of  the  portico,  — a structure  which  is  not  oidy  frankly  acknowl- 
edged, but  made  a motive  for  decoration.  His  construction  being 
built  up  in  courses,  Philibert  de  l’Orme  has  indicated  each  of  these 
courses  by  a peculiar  treatment  of  the  piers  of  his  portico,  and  more 
especially  of  the  Ionic  columns  which  are  applied  against  them.  In 
the  latter  the  fluted  stone  sections  of  the  shaft  alternate  with  low 
courses  of  delicately  chiselled  marble,  the  sculpture  of  the  former 
being  bold  and  sharp,  while  that  of  the  intermediate  marble  rings 
or  belts  is  as  flat  and  refined  as  the  finer  character  of  the  material 
admits.  In  the  designs  cut  upon  these  belts,  the  artist,  inspired  by 
a delicate  feeling  of  sympathy,  has  made  use  of  attributes  to  express, 
iu  the  more  durable  of  the  two  materials,  and  only  in  that,  the  regrets 
of  Catharine  as  the  widow  of  Henry  II.  ; mirrors  and  broken  plumes 
appear  with  clubs  (the  emblem  of  force),  interlaced  with  knotted 
cords  (the  emblem  of  widowhood)  and  blighted  laurels  A The  pro- 

portions of  the  order,  with  its  high  pedestal,  making  a sort  of  cloister 
of  the  arcade,  and  its  delicate  entablature,  formerly  surmounted  by  a 
balustrade,  are  exceedingly  happy.  The  wall  behind  is  pierced  for 
mullioned  windows  opposite  the  alternate  openings  of  the  arcade, 
while  in  the  corresponding  blank  windows  or  flat  niches  in  the  inter- 
mediate spaces  of  the  wall,  the  masonry  is  divided  in  alternate  high 

* It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that,  among  the  decorations  of  the  piers  and  panels  in  the  second 
story,  there  frequently  appears  the  well-known  cipher,  commonly  accepted  as  that  of  Henry  II. 
and  Diana  of  Poitiers,  the  H and  D interlaced  and  surmounted  by  a crown.  As  it  would  be  a 
singular  impropriety  to  ornament  a palace,  built  after  the  death  of  Henry  II.  for  his  widow, 
with  these  initials,  so  often  repeated  in  monuments  erected  during  his  lifetime,  may  not  the 
cipher  be  rather  that  of  Henry  and  Catharine,  H.  and  C.  ? 


PHILIBERT  DE  L’ORME. 


379 


and  low  courses,  like  that  of  the  piers  of  the  arcade.  The  story  above 
is  a continuation  of  the  wall  behind  the  arcade,  and  is  composed  of 
a Mansard  attic  of  long  dormer-windows  alternating  with  panelled 
frontispieces  richly  decorated,  the  whole  forming  a continuous  order, 
whose  broken  outline  is  relieved  against  the  sombre  roof  which  rises 
behind.  It  is  a rich  crown  to  an  architecture  truly  palatial,  grand, 
and  noble  in  its  masses,  and,  in  its  details,  precious  and  exquisitely 
refined. 

Between  the  two  galleries  of  this  facade  was  the  grand  double 
winding  staircase,  which  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  wonders  of  the 
Renaissance.  It  was  crowned  by  an  elegant  cupola,  flanked  by  four 
turrets  or  barbacans.  The  two  extremities  of  the  galleries  were  to 
have  been  terminated,  as  indicated  in  the  plan,  by  two  pavilions,  con- 
taining the  private  apartments  of  the  palace  ; they  were  of  good  pro- 
portions, and  so  managed  as  not  to  crush  by  their  mass  the  delicate 
architecture  of  the  centre,  as  was  the  case  with  those  erected  in  their 
stead  by  Jean  Bullant,  after  the  death  of  de  l’Orme.  Although  what 
is  left  of  the  works  of  both  these  architects  in  this  façade  is  very  much 
disfigured  and  overlaid  by  subsequent  constructions,  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  the  architecture  of  Jean  Bullant  can  sustain  no  comparison  with 
that  of  Philibert  de  l’Orme. 

The  history  of  the  construction  of  the  Louvre  and  the  Tuileries, 
during  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  should  make  us  careful 
about  forming  hasty  conclusions  concerning  the  compositions  of  the 
Renaissance  architects.  In  the  midst  of  the  innumerable  intrigues 
and  jealousies  which  occasioned  the  removal  of  architects  and  changes 
of  their  designs  every  few  years,  it  is  very  difficult  to  get  hold  of  the 
first  idea,  the  unadulterated  conception  of  any  one  artist.  What 
remains  at  present  of  the  oldest  portions  of  this  palace  is  the  result  of 
conceptions  so  various,  superpositions  so  strange,  compromises  and 
adaptations  so  artificial  and  arbitrary,  that  we  can  scarcely  separate 
from  the  mass  the  work  of  any  one  man,  and  must  be  content  with 
selecting  a few  scattered  fragments  of  a charming  taste,  as  in  this 
gallery  of  the  Tuileries,  in  the  southwest  interior  angle  of  the  court 
of  the  Louvre,  in  the  lower  story  of  the  gallery  of  Apollo,  and  in 
the  order  extended  thence  along  the  quay.  If  we  would  know  the 
real  sentiments  of  these  architects  of  the  Renaissance,  we  must  ex- 
amine their  written  and  published  works.  I cannot  here  resist  the 
pleasure  of  again  citing  a few  lines  written  by  Philibert  de  l’Orme, 


380 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


setting  forth  very  distinctly  the  real  tendencies  of  that  sober  mind 
in  regard  to  the  exterior  forms  and  decorations  of  buildings.  What 
he  wrote  so  wisely  three  centuries  ago  is  more  than  ever  applicable 
to-day  : — 

“ I have  always  been  of  the  opinion  that  it  would  be  much  better  for  the 
architect  rather  to  devote  himself  to  ascertaining  and  putting  into  practice  the 
best  means  of  preserving  the  health  and  property  of  mankind  than  to  preoccupy 
himself  with  the  decoration  of  walls.  But  this  is  not  the  custom  of  the  day  ; 
for  many  who  profess  to  be  architects  and  conductors  of  works  do  not  under- 
take to  study  this  subject  seriously,  because  they  know  and  care  nothing  about 
it,  and  would  be  very  much  at  fault  if  questioned  about  any  such  practical  con- 
siderations. And  what  is  still  worse,  I sometimes  observe  that  noblemen,  when 
building,  are  much  more  concerned  about  the  tine  ornaments  of  pilasters,  col- 
umns, cornices,  mouldings,  and  bases,  about  incrustations  of  marble,  etc.,  than 
about  the  aspect  and  site  of  their  houses.  I do  not  mean  to  say  that  it  is  not 
proper  and  good  to  make  very  beautiful  ornaments  and  very  rich  façades  for 
kings,  princes,  and  lords,  when  they  want  them  and  are  willing  to  pay  for  them. 
When  such  façades  are  composed  with  symmetry  and  true  proportion,  and  when 
the  ornamentation  is  applied  with  good  taste  and  discretion,  the  eye  is  delighted 
and  profited.  But  in  reality  delicate  decoration  is  much  better  fitted  for  bou- 
doirs, chimney-places,  baths,  galleries,  and  libraries,  whither  gentlemen  are 
accustomed  to  resort  and  amuse  themselves,  than  to  façades,  vestibules,  peri- 
styles, porticos,  and  such  exterior  places.  Of  course  everybody  can  see  that  it 
would  be  very  much  out  of  place  in  kitchens,  or  in  any  of  the  domestic  offices 
of  a household.  But  when  we  decorate  at  all,  we  should  be  careful  to  do  so 
with  all  the  resources  of  art  and  all  the  dignity  of  architecture,  and  not  by  elab- 
orating scrolls  and  leaves,  nor  by  making  those  bold  projections  or  extravagant 
undercuttings,  which  not  only  afford  lodgment  for  dirt  and  all  manner  of  un- 
cleanliness, and  for  the  nests  of  birds  and  insects,  but  are  especially  liable  to  be 
broken  off  and  disfigured  in  the  course  of  time,  and  then  that  which  was  intended 
to  give  pleasure  only  serves  to  sadden  and  disgust.  I consider  all  this  a waste 
of  money,  even  if  it  does  not  create  also  a feeling  of  melancholy  distrust  in  the 
future.  I advise  architects  and  all  those  Avho  make  building  a profession  rather 
to  study  the  nature  and  requirements  of  the  localities  where  they  are  to  build 
than  to  devote  themselves  exclusively  to  prodigality  of  beautiful  ornaments, 
which  too  often  serve  only  as  traps  to  catch  men,  or  rather  what  is  in  their  purses. 
Indeed,  it  is  much  more  honest  and  useful  to  know  how  to  build  a house  well 
and  make  it  wholesome,  than  to  cover  it  with  a chance  medley  of  decoration, 
without  reason,  proportion,  or  stint.  But,  in  order  to  make  houses  both  con- 
venient and  beautiful,  I admit  that  it  is  necessary  to  add  to  our  practical  knowl- 
edge a feeling  for  the  proper  relations  which  the  various  features  should  have 
for  each  other,  and  the  amount  and  character  of  ornament  which  each  should 
sustain The  ornaments  and  decorations  of  façades  should  be  appro- 


JACQUES  ANDROUET  DU  CERCEAU. 


381 


priate  to  their  position  and  should  correspond  in  character  with  the  interior  ; 
and  the  interior  should  be  so  planned  and  divided,  and  the  windows  so  disposed, 
as  not  unnecessarily  to  disfigure  the  façade.  But  the  system  of  exterior  decora- 
tion should  also  be  such  as  not  to  interfere  with  the  most  convenient  arrange- 
ment of  the  rooms  within,  and  not  to  place  any  artificial  restraint  upon  the 
commodious  and  necessary  disposition  of  doors,  windows,  and  chimneys.  Art 
and  nature  should  accommodate  themselves  to  each  other/’  * 

In  this  passage  we  see  the  man  who  built  the  château  of  Anet, 
who  left  the  mark  of  his  genius  upon  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries, 
who  erected  many  charming  residences  at  Lyons,  and  who  conceived 
the  monument  of  Francis  I.  at  Saint-Denis.  But  it  unfortunately 
happens  that  public  works. are  not  apt  to  be  confided  to  such  wise, 
critical,  and  sober  minds  as  his.f  Yet  it  would  seem  that  the  prin- 
ciples thus  expressed  by  Philibert  de  l’Orme  were  not  without  their 
good  fruits,  for,  after  him,  caprice,  which  until  then,  during  the  first 
half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  had  been  almost  the  absolute  mistress 
of  artists,  began  to  lose  its  sway  over  the  French  Renaissance,  and 
to  be  supplanted  by  rules  which  grew  daily  more  and  more  severe. 
It  is  true  that  the  events  of  the  close  of  this  century  did  not  favor 
any  tendency  to  useless  luxury,  and  that  the  higher  nobility  of  France, 
who  were  for  the  most  part  Protestants,  had  something  besides 
sumptuous  building  to  occupy  their  energies. 

But  in  a work  published  by  Jacques  Androuet  Du  Cerceau,  in 
1615,  there  is  a collection  of  designs  for  country-houses,  in  which 
the  rational  principles  laid  down  by  Philibert  de  l’Orme  are  scru- 
pulously observed.  | This  collection,  embracing  designs  ranging 
from  the  most  modest  dwellings  to  mansions  of  considerable  preten- 
sion, includes  some  plans  which  are  charming  in  composition,  and 
some  elevations  whose  principal  merit  resides  in  their  strict  observ- 
ance of  De  rOrme’s  rule,  to  maintain  a perfect  correspondence  be- 
tween the  interior  and  the  exterior.  In  façades  entirely  destitute 
of  ornament,  this  principle  is  expressed  in  an  arrangement  of  masses 
dictated  by  the  plans,  in  a judicious  disposition  of  roofs,  and  in  a 
very  delicate  feeling  for  proportions.  Du  Cerceau,  like  a practical 
man,  furnishes  with  each  plate  an  explanatory  text  including  est i- 

* “ L’Architecture  ” of  Philibert  de  l’Orme,  1576. 

t See  “Le  Grands  Architects  français  de  la  Renaissance,”  by  Ad.  Berty,  1860.  This  work 
includes  much  precious  testimony  regarding  the  architects  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

Î See  “Livre  d’Archit.  de  Jac.  Androuet  Du  Cerceau  ....  pour  seigneurs,  gentilshommes, 
et  autres  qui  voudront  bastir  aux  champs,”  etc.  Paris,  1615. 


382 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


mates  and  specifications.  Many  of  these  plans  recall  on  a small 
scale  those  of  Madrid  and  La  Muette  in  having  a grand  central  room 
surrounded  by  subordinate  apartments.  If  the  king  contented  him- 
self with  a vast  hall  which  served  as  a daily  place  of  reunion  and 
even  for  a banqueting-room,  private  gentlemen  had  every  reason  to 
be  satisfied  with  a similar  arrangement  ; in  fact,  this  was  their  living- 
room,  where  they  received,  and  eat,  and  spent  their  rainy  days  and 
their  evenings  in  conversations.  No  one  remained  in  his  or  her 
apartment,  except  to  sleep,  to  dress,  or  when  indisposed. 


Fig.  77. 


Fig.  77  is  one  of  the  plans  of  this  collection  of  Du  Cerceau. 
According  to  the  usage  of  the  time,  the  manor-house  is  established 
upon  a platform  having  the  appearance  of  a defensive  work,  and 
surrounded  by  a moat  full  of  water.  But  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
architect  planted  around  the  curtains  and  bastions  of  the  defensive 
work  a trellis-work  or  arbor,  thus  surrounding  the  house  with  a 
girdle  of  verdure  and  furnishing  its  inmates  with  a shady  walk.  At 
A is  a little  elevated  court  with  its  grand  flight  of  steps  ; this  is  a 


' 


JACQUES  ANDROUET  DU  CERCEAU.  3S3 


mediaeval  tradition,  a reminiscence  of  the  baronial  court  of  honor. 
The  great  room  is  at  B,  so  disposed  as  to  receive  light  on  all  four 
sides,  and  yet  to  have  communication  with  four  apartments  on  this 
floor,  and  with  two  staircases  giving  access  to  a similar  range  of 
apartments  above.  Each  apartment  has  its  dressing-room  or  ward- 
robe, and  its  private  means  of  exit  and  entrance.  Observe  also  that 
the  staircase  halls  on  the  lower  floor  serve  as  vestibules  for  the  great 
saloon  as  well  as  for  the  two  principal  apartments.  Certainly,  when 
we  consider  the  customs  of  the  time,  it  would  be  impossible  to  find 
a more  convenient  or  more  simple  arrangement,  or  one  which  accom- 
modates itself  to  a more  pleasing  exterior  architectural  effect.  Now, 


Fig.  78. 


if  we  examine  the  elevation,  (Fig.  78),  we  shall  see  an  example  of  a 
charming  manor-house,  whose  exterior  perfectly  indicates  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  interior.  It  was  the  custom  then,  as  in  classic  times N 
and  in  the  (Middle  Ages,  to  give  to  each  of  the  main  divisions  of  the 
house  its  distinct  roof;  this  allowed  the  architect  great  freedom 
in  planting  his  wings  and  arranging  the  general  block  plan,  and  at 


384 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  same  time  enabled  him  to  obtain  the  most  picturesque  effects 
of  elevation.  At  a later  period  the  discovery  was  made  that  this 
habit  of  the  builders  was  wanting  in  dignity,  and  so  all  the  rooms 
of  the  household,  the  saloons  and  chambers  alike,  were  thrown  to- 
gether under  the  same  uniform  roof.  Yet  it  must  be  admitted  that 
this  system  of  giving  a separate  roof  to  each  of  the  main  divisions 
of  a plan,  however  modest  the  house  may  be  to  which  it  is  applied, 
presents  to  the  eye  the  appearance  of  a group  of  buildings  much  more 
monumental  in  character  than  when  moulded  together  and  covered 
by  a single  roof,  according  to  the  modern  fashion.  Thus,  although 
very  many  houses  of  private  citizens  in  the  nineteenth  century  have 
more  accommodation  than  is  afforded  in  this  château,  very  few  have 
so  imposing  an  appearance. 

The  principal  quality  of  the  architectural  works  of  the  Renaissance, 
from  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  to  the  reign  of  Louis  XIII., 
is  in  a certain  distinction  which  has  rarely  been  exhibited  in  later 
works.  By  distinction  I mean  the  natural  effect  unconsciously  result- 
ing from  the  general  prevalence  of  correct  taste  throughout  all  the 
levels  of  society.  This  precious  quality  was  developed  in  the  greatest 
degree  in  the  arts  of  Greek  antiquity;  the  character  of  the  Roman 
mind  was  too  coarse  for  any  such  expression,  but  it  was  the  natural 
art-language  of  the  Trench  architects  of  the  sixteenth  century  ; in 
fact,  this  quality  of  distinction  must  be  a natural,  unconscious  expres- 
sion, for  if  it  is  forced,  if  it  can  only  be  obtained  by  a direct  effort, 
it  becomes  mere  affectation  and  mannerism.  It  is  an  easy  thing  in 
architecture  to  make  an  imposing  display,  with  plenty  of  money  to 
lavish  ; the  real  difficulty  is  to  give  a perfume  of  art  to  the  most 
vulgar  and  the  most  simple  things,  and  to  know  how  to  remain  sober 
and  unostentatious  in  the  midst  of  splendor. 

The  architects  of  the  Renaissance,  unlike  their  more  modern  breth- 
ren, made  no  pretension  to  high  social  position,  nor  did  they  form 
exclusive  and  pedantic  coteries,  as  ours  do,  disposed  to  regard  as 
barbarians  everybody  outside  of  their  circle  of  the  initiated  ; but,  if 
they  did  not  assume  the  airs  of  gentlemen  and  modestly  wore  the 
costume  assigned  to  their  position  by  the  customs  of  their  day,  and 
knew  their  place,  they  knew  also  how  the  wealthy  and  the  great 
should  be  best  lodged  according  to  the  tastes  and  habits  of  rank  ; 
they  knew  how  to  make  their  art  conform  to  these  conditions,  with- 
out embarrassing  them  by  any  artificial  formulas  ; and,  whether  they 


FAILURE  OF  ITALIAN  ARTISTS  IN  FRANCE. 


385 


were  called  upon  to  meet  a practical  necessity  or  to  express  a mere 
fancy,  they  could  do  it  without  abandoning  their  principles.  But 
from  the  day  when  architects,  formed  in  an  academic  body,  discussed 
art-questions  with  men  of  the  world,  set  aside  all  rational  principles 
of  art,  and  placed  purely  arbitrary  conventionalities  in  the  way  of 
the  most  direct  and  sincere  expression  of  the  requirements  they  were 
called  upon  to  fulfil,  architecture  was  gradually  removed  further  and 
further  from  the  sympathies  of  the  age  ; and  now,  since  architecture 
has  become  intolerant,  unbending,  and  even  tyrannical,  the  age  has 
at  length  learned  how  to  do  without  it. 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  what  fine  revolutionary  airs  the  Italian 
artists  assumed  when  admitted  into  France  in  the  first  years  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  how  they  disdained  all  the  architecture  that  met 
their  eyes,  how  disconcerted  they  were  at  the  manner  in  which  they 
were  expected  to  meet  the  requirements  of  building,  and  how  the 
noble  patrons  of  architecture,  finding  that  their  tastes  and  habits  of 
life  had  to  yield  to  the  formalities  of  the  imported  art,  and  to  make 
continual  sacrifices  to  its  arbitrary  rules,  finally  returned  to  the  native 
art  which  accommodated  itself  readily  and  happily  to  all  the  uses 
they  expected  it  to  subserve. 

But  Louis  XIV.  and  his  ministers  amused  themselves  by  discuss- 
ing high  art  with  their  architects  ; and  it  is  curious  to  see,  under 
these  circumstances,  how  absolute  and  pedantic  the  architects  soon 
learned  to  be  in  their  reasons  why  this  or  that  form  or  stvle  of  art 
should  be  adopted  or  rejected,  but  how  little  they  concerned  them- 
selves about  the  practical  wants  they  were  to  accommodate  and  those 
minute  distributions  of  the  plan  by  means  of  which  a house  is  ren- 
dered habitable  and  comfortable.  There  is  a curious  book  on  this 
subject  which  architects  would  do  well  to  consult  : the  Memoirs  of 
Charles  Perrault,  brother  of  the  architect  of  the  colonnade  of  the 
Louvre  and  of  the  Observatory.* 

Charles  Perrault  was  first  surveyor  of  the  buildings  of  the  fang,  or 
what  we  would  call  director  or  inspector  of  civil  buildings.  He 
had  naturally  the  very  highest  opinions  of  his  own  knowledge  about 
art  ; but  he  has  given  us  some  very  precious  information  concerning 
the  intrigues  of  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.  in  respect  to  the  design 
which  the  chevalier  Bernini  Avas  called  upon  to  furnish  for  the  com- 


* “ Mémoires  de  Ch.  Perrault  de  l’Academie  française,  et  premier  commis  des  bâtiments  du 
Roi.”  Avignon,  1659. 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


■38  6 


pletion  of  the  Louvre,  — a design  fortunately  never  executed,  not- 
withstanding the  good-will  of  the  king  and  the  boastings  of  the 
celebrated  Italian  architect.  Charles  Perrault,  who  desired  that  the 
execution  of  this  project  should  rather  be  confided  to  his  brother 
(as  really  happened  in  part,  as  every  one  knows),  considered  the 
chevalier  Bernini  the  most  extravagant  of  men,  in  which  opinion  he 
certainly  was  sustained  by  facts,  and  so  the  chevalier  was  politely 
shown  back  to  Italy.  But  the  truly  instructive  part  of  this  whole 
matter  is  the  reason  given  by  the  first  surveyor  of  the  king  why  the 
proposition  of  Bernini  should  be  rejected.  “ The  chevalier,”  said  he, 
“ never  enters  sufficiently  into  detail  ; he  is  entirely  preoccupied  with 
the  idea  of  making  grand  saloons  for  theatres  and  festivals,  and  does 
not  descend  to  accommodate  all  the  innumerable  dependencies  and 
domestic  offices  of  the  royal  household,  to  arrange  which  requires  a 
patient  investigation  and  study  little  suited  to  the  active  and  prompt 
genius  of  the  chevalier  ; for  1 am  persuaded  that,  as  regards  archi- 
tecture, he  finds  himself  much  more  at  home  in  decorations  and  the- 
atrical appointments.  M.  Colbert,  on  the  contrary,  required  pre- 
cision ; he  wished  to  know  how  and  where  the  king  was  to  be  lodged, 
and  how  his  servants  were  to  be  accommodated.  He  very  rightly 
thought  that  provision  should  be  made,  not  only  for  the  proper  main- 
tenance of  the  comfort  and  dignity  of  the  king  and  the  royal  family, 
but  that  commodious  lodgings  should  be  arranged  and  appointed  for 
all  the  officers  of  the  household,  even  to  the  humblest,  who,  in  their 
own.  sphere  of  duty,  are  no  less  necessary  than  the  most  important 
in  theirs  ; he  did  not  cease  to  make,  unmake,  and  modify  memo- 
randa of  all  those  points  which  he  considered  it  necessary  to  observe 
in  distributing  the  various  offices  and  apartments,  and  thus  he  fa- 
tigued the  Italian  artist,  who  neither  understood  nor  cared  to  under- 
stand anything  about  such  matters  of  detail,  considering  it  beneath 
the  dignity  of  a great  architect  like  himself  to  descend  to  such 
minutiae.” 

This  is  excellent  ; but  when  we  examine  the  designs  of  Perrault 
and  that  part  of  his  project  which  was  executed,  we  may  well  ask 
if  the  excellent  reasons  assigned  for  the  rejection  of  the  projects  of 
Bernini  would  not  have  been  equally  applicable  against  the  work  of 
Perrault.  In  fact,  if  the  good  sense  and  correct  spirit  of  Colbert, 
if  the  memorials  and  intrigues  of  Charles  Perrault,  have  happily  pre- 
served us  from  the  Louvre  of  Bernini,  which  would  have  left  nothing 


THE  LOUVRE  OE  BERNINI  AND  PERRAULT. 


387 


of  that  of  Henry  II.,  it  is  not  less  certain  that  the  architecture  of  the 
physician  Perrault  was  little  fitted  to  meet  all  the  requirements  of 
a royal  household.  It  was  an  affair  of  colonnades,  peristyles,  and 
orders,  not  of  the  most  convenient  general  arrangement  of  a palace. 
The  king,  fatigued  with  these  disputes,  chose  the  design  of  Dr. 
Perrault,  not  because  he  found  it  or  could  have  found  it  more  sen- 
sible and  commodious  than  the  others,  but  because  it  was  “ more 
beautiful  and  more  majestic.”  “ Of  course,”  added  the  first  surveyor 
of  the  royal  buildings,  “ the  envy  of  all  the  professional  architects 
of  Paris  was  aroused  at  this  selection  of  the  king,  and  they  made 
many  poor  jokes  about  it,  saying  that  architecture  must  be  very  sick 
to  be  placed  thus  in  the  hands  of  the  doctors.”  The  professional 
architects  did  not  know  how  truly  they  spoke.  Yet  architecture  still 
had  a great  deal  of  life  left  in  it  ; reason  and  common-sense,  not- 
withstanding the  mania  for  art-formulas  which  had  already  begun 
to  take  the  place  of  art  itself,  still  found  means  of  making  them- 
selves felt.  There  yet  remain  to  us  many  very  remarkable  architec- 
tural works,  executed  at  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  and  during  the 
•eighteenth  century,  in  which  we  find  grandeur,  well-conceived  dispo- 
sitions of  plans,  and  a certain  sober  elegance,  which,  for  many  years 
past,  have  been  strangers  to  us. 

As  soon  as  the  wholesome  impulses  of  truth  and  common-sense 
were  made  subordinate  to  absolute  formulas  regarding  the  proportions 
and  use  of  the  ancient  orders,  to  the  artificial  requirements  of  sym- 
metry, and  to  the  authority  of  classic  precedent  as  interpreted  by  aca- 
demical rules,  architecture  fell  into  its  decline.  But,  in  the  bemnniim 
the  Renaissance  did  not  essentially  modify  the  traditional  arrange- 
ment of  plans  and  elevations,  except  as  rendered  necessary  by  the 
natural  development  of  new  manners  and  customs  ; it  remained  faith- 
fid  to  the  mediaeval  methods  of  composition  ; its  characteristic  inno- 
vation was  in  the  decorative  system  it  borrowed  from  the  arts  of 
antiquity  and  from  the  Italian  arts  of  the  fifteenth  century  ; but,  at 
bottom,  the  architecture  of  the  Prencli  Renaissance  was  still  the 
Trench  architecture  of  the  centuries  immediately  preceding.  Thus  the 
old  system  ot  expressing  the  several  stories  of  a house  externally  by 
an  especial  disposition  of  architectural  features  arranged  to  that  end 
was  still  adhered  to  ; so  that  when  the  first  Renaissance  architects 
desired  to  make  use  of  the  ancient  orders,  these  orders  were  placed 
one  upon  the  other  according  to  the  number  of  floors  ; this  arrange- 


388 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


ment  was  adopted  in  the  châteaux  of  Chambord,  Madrid,  the  Louvre, 
Ancy-le-Franc,  Tanlay,  Anet,  and  many  others.  But  the  application 
of  the  ancient  orders  to  this  system  of  decoration,  although  logical 
and  reasonable,  had  the  disadvantage  of  giving  to  the  façades  so 
decorated  a mean  and  monotonous  appearance.  The  superimposed 
orders,  whether  very  rich  or  very  simple,  cut  up  the  building  like  a 
checker-board,  and  presented  an  assemblage  of  horizontal  lines  (the 
entablatures)  and  perpendicular  lines  (the  columns  or  pilasters),  which 
fatigued  the  eye  by  their  uniformity,  — an  objection  especially  offen- 
sive in  a country  like  France,  ever  fond  of  variety  and  novelty. 

Philibert  de  l’Orme,  in  the  composition  of  the  palace  of  the  Tuile- 
ries, endeavored  to  avoid  this  objectionable  effect  by  using  but  one 
order,  and  that  in  the  lower  story,  surmounted  by  a story  so  broken 
in  its  upper  outlines  as  to  have  merely  the  effect  of  a crown  ; and, 
again,  he  endeavored  to  give  his  lower  order  an  especial  character 
by  frankly  emphasizing  the  horizontal  courses  of  which  his  pilasters 
and  columns  were  built,  thus  breaking  their  vertical  lines.  A simi- 
lar experiment  had  already  been  made  (and  before  the  superimpo- 
sition of  the  stories  added  by  Henry  IV.)  in  the  gallery  of  Apollo 
and  in  the  adjoining  gallery  extending  along  the  quay  of  the  Louvre. 
But,  in  this  case,  it  was  merely  an  ingenious  expedient  to  avoid  the 
coldness  and  monotony  of  the  horizontal  and  vertical  lines,  which 
divided  the  façades  into  equal  compartments  ; it  was  no  new  prin- 
ciple. On  examining  the  monuments  built  during  the  second  half 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  architects  were 
constantly  seeking  new  devices  and  combinations,  and  endeavoring 
to  obtain  an  aspect  of  grandeur  in  their  edifices  by  suppressing,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  divisions  imposed  by  the  heights  of  the  stories. 
Jean  Bullant,  in  parts  of  the  château  of  Ecouen,  had  already  tried 
to  break  his  orders  free  from  the  confinement  of  successive  stories. 
Thus  in  the  court-yard  he  used  a sort  of  Corinthian  veneering  com- 
prehending the  whole  height  of  the  edifice.  But,  however  remark- 
able this  order  may  be  in  itself  in  respect  to  workmanship,  it  is  but 
a study,  a separate  abstract  architectural  feature,  with  no  especial 
significance  in  its  application,  and  having  no  essential  relations  with 
its  surroundings. 

In  the  ancient  buildings  connected  with  the  château  of  Chantilly, 
we  find  very  distinctly  expressed  a desire  to  obtain  a grand  effect 
with  an  architectural  order  by  extending  its  Corinthian  pilasters 


EMBARRASSMENTS  OE  SUPERIMPOSED  ORDERS.  389 


Fig.  79. 


through  two  stories  (Fig.  79).*'  This  expedient  certainly  gave  a very 
imposing  appearance  to  the  structure  to  which  it  was  applied,  yet 
it  would  be  hard  to  find  a reasonable  explanation  for  it. 

* See  Du  Cerceau,  “ Des  plus  excellens  bastimens  de  France.” 


390 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


But,  after  all,  it  was  impossible  for  the  architects  of  the  sixteenth 
century  to  break  away  suddenly  from  the  traditional  methods  they 
had  inherited  from  their  ancestors  ; the  old  French  school  still  lived 
in  them  ; they  were  still  men  of  taste,  carefully  avoiding  vulgarity 
and  seeking  to  give  to  every  object,  however  ordinary  and  simple, 
the  distinction  of  a work  of  art.  It  is  easy  to  see  traces  of  the  con- 
flict which  took  place  in  the  minds  of  the  architects  of  the  latter  half 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  when  they  desired  at  once  to  satisfy  the 
demands  of  reason  and  to  abandon  the  monotony  into  which  they 
had  been  led  by  the  system  of  superimposed  orders  ; to  effect  this 
object  they  made  use  of  every  imaginable  expedient  ; they  used 
orders  of  Caryatides  and  Terms,  sculptured  piers,  panels  enriched 
with  ornaments,  pilasters  with  arabesques.  Yet,  however  fertile  the 
architects  were  in  such  expedients,  so  long  as  they  used  the  super- 
imposed orders,  there  always  remained  the  same  inherent  defect  of 
littleness. 

Andronet  Du  Cerceau,  in  his  collection  Des  plus  excellens  basti- 
viens  de  France , presents  us  with  the  designs  prepared  for  the  con- 
struction of  the  chateau  of  Charleval,  near  Andelys.  This  château, 
begun  by  Charles  IX.,  “ was  to  have  been,”  said  Du  Cerceau,  “ the 
first  building  in  France.”  Although  the  actual  construction  proceeded 
but  little  further  than  the  foundations,  the  designs  which  remain  are 
exceedingly  interesting  both  in  the  arrangements  of  the  plans  and 
and  in  the  style  of  the  facades  ; in  the  latter  we  can  perceive  the  new 
devices  which  were  used  to  obtain  grandeur  with  classic  details,  and 
yet  without  offending  against  the  logical  principles  inherited  from 
mediaeval  France.  In  the  exterior  elevations  of  the  buildings  of  the 
principal  court  (Fig.  80)  we  observe  that  the  great  order  of  Doric 
pilasters  was  so  treated  as  to  fulfil  exactly  the  functions  of  buttresses 
or  “ chains  ” of  stone.  To  better  express  this  function,  the  architect 
divided  these  pilasters  by  horizontal  lines,  so  that,  regarding  them  as 
buttresses,  it  was  allowable  to  extend  them  uninterrupted  through 
two  stories  and  the  intermediate  floor,  without  grave  offence  against 
the  laws  of  good  taste.  Observe,  also,  that  the  cornice  is  continuous 
without  being  broken  by  the  pilasters,  whose  friezes  are  stopped 
under  its  projection.  Irrespective  of  details,  the  general  disposition 
still  belongs  entirely  to  the  system  of  civil  mediaeval  architecture. 

But  in  the  court-yard  facade  of  the  same  building,  which  appears 
to  have  been  built  up  to  a certain  height,  the  architect  of  Charleval 


Fig.  80. 


ADOPTION  OF  THE  COLOSSAL  ORDER. 


391 


not  only  emphasized  the  grand  order  more  frankly,  hut  entirely  con- 
cealed the  presence  of  the  floor  between  the  first  and  second  stories  ; 
these  conditions,  although  contrary  to  the  logical  principles  of  medi- 
aeval architects,  were  accepted  openly  and  treated  with  remarkable 
address.  In  fact  (Fig.  81),  the  floor  between  the  first  and  second  stories, 
naturally  laid  on  the  level  marked  A,  is  cut  by  semicircular  niches  in 
such  a manner  that  the  eye  dôes  not  suspect  its  existence,  and  neces- 
sarily embraces  the  whole  height  of  this  order,  really  extending 
through  two  stories,  as  if  they  were  one.  The  architect  used  his  skill, 
not  to  effect  a compromise  between  the  old  and  new  systems,  like  his 
predecessors,  but  to  conceal  the  sacrifices  of  truth  necessitated  by  the 
frankness  with  which  he  rejected  the  former  and  adopted  the  latter. 
He  evinced  the  same  skill  also  by  interposing  between  every  two 
arches  of  his  portico  an  entire  bay  of  the  order,  and  piercing  each 
of  these  intermediate  solids  with  a little  square  window,  thus  not 
only  obtaining  a perfect  shelter  for  his  portico,  but  emphasizing  the 
main  lines  of  expression  of  his  order,  and  giving  to  the  bays  between 
the  arches  an  extraordinary  grandeur.  It  had  the  additional  prac- 
tical advantage  of  enabling  the  cellars  to  receive  light  by  means  of 
openings  under  each  of  the  small  intermediate  windows.  It  was,  as 
a whole,  the  work  of  a consummate  artist,  and  I know  nothing  in  the 
palaces  of  the  Italian  Renaissance  which  can  approach  it  in  nobility 
of  aspect. 

It  is  therefore  certain  that,  at  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  a 
few  architects  were  bold  enough  to  give  up  the  method  of  confining 
the  orders  to  separate  stories,  and  to  adopt  an  order  extending  un- 
broken from  the  base  to  the  cornice  of  a building  of  many  stories. 
To  the  latter  the  name  of  colossal  order  has  been  given.  This  experi- 
ment had  an  immense  success  ; it  was  discovered  that  architecture  so 
treated  had  a grandeur  and  dignity  which  dwarfed  into  comparative 
insignificance  everything  which  had  been  done  in  the  first  half  of 
that  century.  At  first  the  colossal  order  was  only  used  for  very  large 
buildings  or  for  façades  of  great  extent  ; it  was  not  admitted  defi- 
nitely into  architecture  till  about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, as  in  the  chateau  of  Vaux,  built  by  the  architect  Le  Vau  for  the 
superintendent  Fouquet.  It  is  easy  to  understand  that  this  majestic 
style  of  architecture  was  very  much  affected  by  Louis  XIV.,  whose 
ideas  about  art  were  confined  to  a sentiment  of  apparent  grandeur, — 
a sentiment  which,  it  must  be  confessed,  had  its  advantages,  and  was 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


302 


invariably  manifested  in  all  that  was  built  during  the  reign  of  that 
prince. 

Thus  the  Renaissance,  which  had  supplanted  the  art  of  the  Middle 
Ages  at  the  moment  when  that  art  was  at  the  end  of  its  resources, 
fell  into  its  decline  much  sooner  even  than  the  system  it  had  replaced  ; 
in  less  than  a century  it  said  all  that  it  had  to  say  ; and  then  the 
Gothic  could  not  be  revived,  for  it  was  quite  dead  so  far  as  all  the 
uses  of  life  at  that  time  were  concerned.  Therefore  it  Avas  necessary 
to  recur  to  a new  style.  From  that  time  architecture  began  to  be 
imposed,  to  be  an  art  to  Avhich  all  considerations  of  comfort  and  con- 
venience must  be  secondary  ; the  colossal  order  became  a tyrant,  and 
established  itself  as  master  in  the  public  monument  as  well  as  in  the 
private  dwelling.  At  times  there  were  evidences  of  a reaction  against 
its  tyranny,  as  in  the  Hôtel  des  Invalides  ; but  these  were  the  excep- 
tions, and  the  colossal  order  remained  triumphant  until  the  end  of  the 
last  century.  The  last  and  by  no  means  the  worst  expression  of  its 
power  Avas  in  the  Garde-meuble,  and  the  Hôtel  des  Monnaies  at 
Paris.  If  the  colossal  style  had  oidy  replaced  the  insignificant  uni- 
formity of  the  Renaissance  by  a uniformity  on  a grand  scale,  it  would 
not  have  been  so  bad  ; but  the  latter  had  the  serious  disadvantages 
of  throAving  everything  with  Avhich  it  Avas  associated  out  of  scale,  and 
of  being  in  no  respect  pliant  to  the  practical  uses  of  architecture. 

In  my  opinion,  tAvo  or  three  superimposed  ranges  of  windows  can- 
not be  comprised  betAveen  pilasters  or  columns  thirty  or  forty  feet 
high  Avith  good  effect  ; the  arrangement  must  give  the  impression 
that  a building  built  by  giants  is  inhabited  bv  dwarfs.  This  is  the 
actual  effect  produced  by  certain  antique  monuments  appropriated  to 
modern  uses,  as,  for  example,  the  temple  of  Antoninus  Pius  at  Rome, 
between  Avhose  columns  the  stories  of  the  custom-house  have  been 
built.  This  want  of  harmony  between  the  style  of  architecture  and 
the  practical  uses  to  Avhich  it  is  devoted  so  troubled  architects  ot 
the  last,  two  centuries,  that  they  gradually  found  it  necessary  to  estab- 
lish some  less  violent  contrasts  of  proportion  in  their  façades,  and  so, 
using  these  colossal  orders,  they  finally  began  to  make  their  AvindoAvs, 
for  example,  colossal  also  ; the  result  Avas,  that  often  the  practical 
requirements  of  the  buildings  so  treated  rendered  it  necessary  to  cut 
the  height  of  these  great  Avindows  in  halves  Avith  floors,  or  their 
width  with  partitions.  If  this  arrangement  produces  a satisfactory 
effect  to  those  avIio  examine  these  majestic  façades  from  Avithout, 


Fig.  81 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  LOUIS  XIY.  STYLE. 


393 


those  behind  find  the  practical  result  not  so  agreeable,  and  have 
every  reason  to  complain  of  the  architect  and  his  architecture.  This 
is  but  one  of  the  miserable  consequences  of  the  neglect  of  true 
principles.  But  whatever  may  have  been  the  errors  and  exagger- 
ations of  mediaeval  art  in  the  last  stages  of  its  decline,  it  never 
reached  such  a state  of  discord  as  this.  In  the  Gothic  monuments 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  — even  those  most  overloaded  with  carvings 
and  ornaments,  most  cut  up  with  mouldings  and  combinations  of  pris- 
matic surfaces,  — we  find  always  a close  adherence  to  the  programme 
imposed  ; a perfect  compliance  with  the  domestic  customs  of  the  in- 
habitants, if  it  was  a private  mansion,  or,  if  it  was  a town  hall  or 
a hospital,  a ready  accommodation  for  every  public  necessity.  The 
first  architects  of  the  Renaissance,  in  adopting  a new  style  without 
pausing  to  examine  if  it  had  any  peculiar  adaptability  to  the  manners 
and  customs  of  modern  civilization,  thought  only  of  exchanging  an 
old,  worn-out  garment  for  a new  and  elegant  one,  taking  it  for  granted 
that  the  body  and  soul  beneath  would  still  retain  all  their  wholesome 
liberty  ; this  idea,  indeed,  for  some  time,  kept  them  in  the  right  track  ; 
but  soon  the  garment  became  the  principal  consideration,  thus  in- 
commoding the  body  and  consequently  placing  a restraint  upon  the 
mind.  In  this  way,  at  length,  a sort  of  guild  of  architectural  tailors 
was  formed,  which  only  allowed  coats  of  one  cut  or  fashion,  what- 
ever might  be  the  peculiarities  of  the  body  to  be  clothed,  thus  avoid- 
ing all  the  trouble  of  inventing  new  combinations  for  each  case,  as 
well  as  of  hunting  among  bygone  fashions  for  ideas  applicable  to 
modern  uses. 

But  if  architecture,  because  proceeding  from  false  principles,  went 
astray,  it  at  least,  at  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  erred  with 
grandeur.  The  monuments  of  that  period  were  the  characteristic 
expressions  of  a people  still  having  a powerful  art-language  of  their 
own.  If  their  exterior  architecture  indicated  an  imminent  decline, 
if  its  great  aim  was  to  obtain  majesty  of  effect  at  all  cost,  and  if,  in 
so  doing,  it  became  more  and  more  unbending  to  the  requirements 
of  society,  their  interior  architecture  at  least,  for  a long  time,  preserved 
a true  character,  often  expressing  with  rare  felicity  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  reign.  Even  up  to  the  close  of  the  last  century,  the 
interiors  of  palaces  and  other  public  monuments,  of  town  houses,  and 
châteaux,  were  conceived  and  executed  by  artists  who  still  preserved 
some  of  the  good  traditions  of  art  ; for  there  is  no  one  who,  on 


394 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


entering  a saloon  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.,  does  not  seem  to  he 
transported,  as  it  were,  into  the  midst  of  the  society  of  that  epoch. 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  permitted  to  express  a doubt  as  to  whether,  a 
hundred  years  lienee,  the  interiors  of  the  palaces  and  mansions  of  our 
day  will  have  a similar  significance.  Will  it  not  be  difficult  to  find 
in  them  a fair  expression  of  our  manners,  ideas,  and  habitual  life? 
But  to  disentangle  this  strange  confusion  of  modern  arts,  to  explain 
this  luxury  of  bad  alloy,  to  deduce  a rational  conclusion  from  this 
poverty  of  invention  concealed  under  a mass  of  gilding  and  orna- 
ments stolen  from  every  country  and  every  age,  will  be  a task  for 
our  descendants  ; why  should  we  trouble  ourselves  about  such 
things  ? 

At  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century  Italy  was  distinguished 
for  the  beauty  of  its  interior  decorations  in  public  and  private  works. 
The  library  of  the  cathedral  of  Sienna,  some  parts  of  the  old  palace 
of  Florence,  the  stanze  of  the  Vatican,  the  Villa  Madama,  the  vault 
of  the  sanctuary  of  Santa  Maria  del  Popolo,  the  Vatican  library,  the 
interior  of  the  Farnese  palace  at  Rome  and  of  a number  of  palaces 
at  Venice  and  Genoa,  present  examples  of  decoration,  whose  wise 
conception  and  admirable  execution  have  been  and  must  still  remain 
an  inexhaustible  source  of  profitable  study.  But  what  was  the  great 
principle  observed  by  the  authors  of  these  remarkable  works  ? In  a 
word,  it  was  this  : in  their  interiors,  the  form  of  the  architecture,  the 
structure,  was  never  dissembled  or  concealed  under  multiplicity, 
extent,  dimensions,  or  exaggerated  richness  of  decorative  details. 

In  my  preceding  Discourses  I have  said  that  the  exterior  decora- 
tion of  Greek  architecture  Avas  merely  structure  refined  into  beautiful 
forms  by  the  strictest  application  of  reason  ; the  elements  of  struc- 
ture always  appeared  under  the  architecture,  as  the  bones  of  a man 
are  evident  under  his  muscles.  The  decorative  interior  fragments 
remaining  to  us  from  this  beautiful  architecture  are  always  in  accord- 
ance with  this  principle.  Under  the  Roman  Empire,  it  the  decora- 
tion Avas  sometimes  distinct  from  the  basis  of  structure,  it  neverthe- 
less frankly  confessed  its  oAvn  structure  as  a parasite.  We  have  seen 
that  the  Roman  monument,  made  of  rubble  and  brick,  received  a 
decoration  of  marble  without  any  absolutely  necessary  relation  in 
character  with  the  structure  to  which  it  was  applied  ; but  this  deco- 
ration Avas,  as  it  were,  a second  structure  whose  treatment  belied 
neither  its  material  nor  its  Avorkmanship.  For  the  purpose  of  fixing 


MEDLEY  AL  TRADITIONS  IN  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY.  395 


it  indelibly  in  the  minds  of  my  readers,  I will  repeat  here  what  I * 
have  already  said  : Greek  architecture  is  a naked  body,  whose  beauty 
is  the  result  of  the  perfect  adaptability  of  its  form  to  its  structure 
and  functions,  while  Roman  architecture  is  a body  clothed  ; but 
whether  this  clothing  fitted  the  body  well  or  ill,  as  a clothing  it  was 
always  reasonable  and  appropriate  to  its  material  ; it  was  rich  if  the 
material  was  rich,  and  simple  if  the  material  was  poor  ; its  ornaments 
belied  neither  its  real  texture  nor  its  form.  During  the  Middle 
Ages,  in  France  at  least,  it  was  again  the  structure  which  was  deco- 
rated, the  naked  body,  which  was  made  as  beautiful  as  possible  ; it 
is  in  this  respect  that  the  architecture  of  that  epoch  is  so  closely 
allied  to  the  Greek.  Rut  the  Renaissance  endeavored  to  conciliate 
these  two  principles  of  decoration  ; the  body  and  the  clothing  were 
regarded  as  one  ; and,  while  resorting  to  antique  Roman  art  for 
precedents  to  follow,  the  architects  of  that  time  were  struck  only  by 
its  apparent  form,  never  discovering  that  that  form  was  a mere  en- 
velope and  not  the  true  structure,  and,  under  this  delusion,  they 
adopted  it  as  decorated  structure  and  treated  it  according  to  their 
mediaeval  traditions. 

It  is  said  by  certain  travellers  that  the  naked  savages  in  tropic 

climates,  when  they  see  Europeans  for  the  first  time,  imagine  that 

their  clothing  is  a part  of  their  bodies,  and  are  much  astonished 

when  the  white  strangers  take  off  their  hats.  Now  the  archi- 

° y 

tects  of  the  sixteenth  century  (whom  I am  far  from  comparing 

with  these  savages)  saw  in  the  massive  rubble-work  of  the  old 

Romans,  with  its  casing  of  stone,  marble,  or  stucco,  a homogeneous 

whole,  which  they  undertook  to  imitate  with  mediaeval  means  of 

construction.  And  therefore,  although  their  aim  was  to  be  like  the 

Romans,  they  composed  an  original  architecture.  But  this  confusion 

did  not  last  long,  and  architecture,  in  the  hands  of  Philibert  de 

l’Orme  and  the  contemporaneous  architects,  already  sensibly  inclined 

towards  antique  structure;*'  as  they  pretended  to  adopt  the  Roman 

style  absolutely,  it  was  logical  to  submit  their  construction  to  this 

style,  let  the  traditions  of  an  art  are  so  difficult  to  forget,  its  traces 

are  so  deep,  that,  even  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  we  still 

see  the  struggle  between  the  two  opposing  principles  in  the  same 

monuments  ; we  still  see  the  mediaeval  decorated  structure,  the  naked 

body  in  its  own  proper  image,  and,  next  it,  a bit  of  facing  borrowed 

* See  the  chapel  of  the  château  of  Anet,  the  tomh  of  the  Yalois  at  Saint-Denis  (Marat). 


300 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


from  Roman  art.  The  savage  has  put  on  a coat,  but  he  is  still  bare- 
legged. But  the  idea  of  building  up  a construction  in  masses,  a 
construction  planted  like  a block,  and  then  afterwards,  or  even  as 
the  building  was  going  on,  to  face  it  with  a decoration  of  stone  or 
marble  which  was  not  absolutely  essential  to  its  stability,  could  not 
readily  enter  into  the  mind  of  an  architect  who  came  after  the  school 
of  the  Middle  Ages  ; and,  besides,  the  means  at  his  disposal  were 
insufficient  to  do  Roman  work,  and  feeble  in  comparison  with  Roman 
resources.  Under  the  circumstances,  it  was  natural  that  he  should 
still  continue  to  honor  his  construction  according  to  the  traditions 
by  which  he  was  surrounded,  and  that,  in  imitating  Roman  archi- 
tecture, he  should  obtain  but  a very  meagre  reminiscence  of  it.  In- 
deed, if  he  had  attempted  the  real  Roman  method,  he  would  soon 
have  swallowed  up  the  finances  at  the  disposal  of  the  princes  and 
subjects  of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  resources  which  King  Henry 
II.  was  able  to  apply  to  the  construction  of  all  his  royal  buildings 
would  not,  even  in  ten  years  perhaps,  have  sufficed  to  erect  a single 
establishment  like  the  baths  of  Agrippa  or  of  Antoninus  Caracalla. 

In  fact,  to  build  to-day  an  edifice,  or  rather  a group  of  edifices, 
like  the  baths  of  Antoninus  Caracalla,  of  which  we  have  given  a plan, 
and  to  decorate  them  with  true  Roman  luxury,  would  cost  not  less 
than  sixty-four  million  dollars  ; for  these  constructions  covered  about 
four  hundred  thousand  feet  of  ground,  and  certainly  it  could  not 
cost  less  than  one  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  per  foot  on  an  average 
to  build  them,  when  we  take  into  account  the  granite  and  marble 
columns,  the  entablatures  and  facings  of  marble,  the  grilles  of  bronze, 
the  mosaics,  the  painted  stucco,  the  subterranean  works,  the  terraces, 
the  roofs  of  lead,  the  ornamental  sculpture,  the  statues  and  bas-reliefs. 
Now  the  architects  of  the  Renaissance,  although  they  employed 
neither  the  enormous  masses  of  rubble  nor  the  precious  materials  of 
the  Romans,  although  they  were  content  with  a mere  appearance  of 
Roman  work,  even  under  these  favorable  conditions  and  to  finish  a few 
comparatively  small  buildings,  taxed  their  resources  to  the  utmost. 

The  further  these  architects  got  from  the  mediaeval  methods  of 
building,  and  the  nearer  they  undertook  to  approach  the  methods  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  the  greater  was  the  disproportion  between  the 
financial  resources  at  their  disposal  and  the  architecture  they  would 
reproduce.  This  explains  the  reaction  which  took  place  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  seventeenth  century,  after  the  religious  wars,  in  favor  ot 


THE  STYLE  OE  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 


307 


the  mediaeval  methods  of  construction.  Architects  were  constrained 
to  return  to  plain  walls  pierced  with  windows,  and  to  floors  and  roofs 
of  wood  for  public  and  private  buildings  alike  ; they  abandoned  their 
vast  vaulted  porticos,  and  no  longer  undertook  to  build  such  chateaux 
as  Saint-Germain,  La  Muette,  and  Challuau,  covered  by  terraced 
roofs,  supported  on  vaults,  and  abutted  by  thick  walls  pierced  with 
arcades  ; in  their  interiors,  they  returned  to  wainscotings  ot  wood, 
and  avoided  those  stucco  embellishments  by  which  they  had  sought 
to  recall  the  grand  marble  decoration  of  the  Roman  architecture  of 
the  empire.  In  their  exteriors  they  renounced  the  superimposition 
of  classic  orders,  whether  of  pilasters  or  columns,  so  much  in  vogue 
in  the  middle  of  the  preceding  century,  and  contented  themselves 
with  “ chains  ” and  quoins  of  stone,  and  with  brick  facings  between  ; 
they  reduced  the  projection  of  their  cornices  and  string-courses,  and 
ceased  to  divide  their  facades  with  pilasters  covered  with  arabesques. 
Interior  architecture  became  more  severe  and  quiet,  indicating  clearly 
the  methods  of  construction.  After  all  its  efforts  to  imitate  antique 
fragments,  and  after  having  submitted  to  the  influence  of  the  Italian 
Renaissance,  architecture  recovered  its  French  physiognomy  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  the  society  of  the  time.  But  it  never  recovered 
its  perfection  of  workmanship. 

This  degradation  of  workmanship  was  the  result  of  several  causes. 
In  the  Middle  Ages,  as  the  decoration  and  apparent  form  could  not 
lie  separated  from  the  structure,  the  masters  of  the  works  were  accus- 
tomed to  trace  the  mouldings  and  ornaments  upon  the  patterns,  by 
which  the  workman  moulded  or  sculptured  every  stone  before  putting 
it  in  its  place.  It  is  not  possible  to  erect  a Gothic  monument  in  any 
other  way  ; and  thus,  in  Gothic  times,  the  workmen  became  very  skil- 
ful and  intelligent  masons  and  excellent  stone-cutters,  and  the  sculp- 
ture being  so  treated,  the  character  of  the  decoration  was  compelled  to 
fit  the  character  of  the  masonry.  This  having  become  a fixed  habit 
during  the  course  of  centuries,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Renaissance, 
although  the  new  form  adopted  did  not  exact  any  such  procedure,  the 
old  method  was  still  adhered  to  for  some  time  ; but  the  new  profiles 
and  ornamental  sculpture  required  by  the  imported  style  were  more 
surely  and  less  expensively  executed  on  the  masonry  after  it  was 
laid  ; the  Renaissance  architects  therefore  soon  got  into  the  habit 
of  building  their  walls  “ in  the  rough  ” and  finishing  them  af- 
terwards. Hence  the  necessity  of  adapting  the  masonry  to  the 


39S 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


fashion  of  ornament,  and  to  the  various  architectural  members,  became 
less  imperious  ; and  it  may  be  accepted  as  a general  rule,  that,  wher- 
ever in  the  execution  of  a work  there  is  no  immediate  necessity  of 
observing  a principle,  the  principle  itself,  however  good,  falls  into 
disuse  and  is  forgotten.  Still,  up  to  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  there  were  many  skilful  architects,  like  Philibert  de  l’Orme, 
who  remained  wise  and  conscientious  observers  of  good  methods,  and 
continued  to  subordinate  their  masonry  to  their  architectural  forms  ; 
but  these  were  the  exceptions  to  the  general  rule.  Many  of  their 
contemporaries  left  the  care  of  laying  up  a façade  in  masonry  to  the 
workmen  ; and,  after  this  had  been  done  more  or  less  roughly,  they 
proceeded,  regardless  of  the  character  of  the  ashlar,  to  have  their 
profiles  and  embellishments  cut  and  finished  upon  it  as  it  stood. 
From  this  negligence  there  often  resulted  a complete  want  of  har- 
mony between  the  masonry  and  the  style  of  decoration  adopted.  The 
craft  of  the  mason,  thus  no  longer  exacting  from  him  a complete 
understanding  of  the  ultimate  effect  to  be  produced  by  his  masonry, 
gradually  fell  into  the  hands  of  ignorant  workmen,  and  most  of  the 
French  edifices  built  at  about  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century  bear 
the  marks  of  this  utter  disregard  of  common-sense  and  even  of  the 
conditions  of  stability.  A conspicuous  example  of  this  is  in  the 
church  of  Saint  Eustache  at  Paris.  For  the  same  reasons  the  stone- 
cutters, being  obliged  to  work  on  the  rough  wall  after  it  had  been  laid, 
and  being  necessarily  less  carefully  watched  and  less  closely  criticised, 
became  negligent  and  careless.  Then  the  people,  impatient  at  the 
long  delay  of  the  scaffolding,  hurried  the  workmen  who  occupied  it 
to  a completion,  in  order  that  it  might  be  removed  and  the  work 
exposed  to  observation  ; as  regards  the  results,  there  was  no  severity 
of  criticism  ; under  these  circumstances,  the  ornamental  work,  done 
at  so  much  a yard,  was  often  left  incomplete  or  roughly  finished, 
without  any  regard  for  the  courses  and  joints  of  the  masonry. 

Gradually  that  school  of  sculptors,  which  had  been  so  brilliant 
during  the  Middle  Ages  and  again  through  the  first  halt  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  lost  its  power,  lost  its  sentiment  of  monumental  art, 
and  became  a mere  trade.  The  types,  inspired  by  antique  art  and 
French  traditions,  so  graceful  and  often  so  pure  at  the  beginning  ot 
the  Renaissance,  finally  became  vulgarized  and  the  merest  shadows  oi 
their  former  selves, — shadows  without  style  and  without  character. 
When,  at  the  close  of  the  reign  ot  Henry  II.  and  during  that  ot 


INTERIOR  DECORATIONS  OF  THE  RENAISSANCE.  399 


Louis  XIII.,  architecture  assumed  a certain  vigor,  a new  youth,  it  did 
so  by  requiring  from  all  its  artisans,  from  its  masons,  its  stone-cutters, 
and  sculptors,  a more  careful  study  and  a greater  respect  for  art.  But, 
during  this  period,  it  would  seem  that  the  principal  efforts  of  the 
architects  were  confined  to  interior  decorations. 

In  fact  the  Renaissance,  up  to  that  time,  had  not  succeeded  in 
giving  to  interior  architecture  any  characteristic  physiognomy  ; in 
this  respect  it  either  continued  to  follow  in  the  tracks  of  the  preced- 
ing century,  or  indulged  in  mixed  compositions,  which,  although 
evidently  the  works  of  men  of  skill  and  taste,  evinced  that  absence 
of  completeness  and  grandeur  which  is  the  mark  of  an  undigested 
system.  The  most  flourishing  periods  of  the  Renaissance  had  been 
succeeded  by  so  many  political  agitations  and  disasters,  that  the 
princes  and  wealthy  citizens  had  hardly  time  to  complete  the  resi- 
dences they  had  begun,  much  less  to  finish  their  interior  decorations  ; 
the  artists  naturally,  therefore,  labored  under  peculiar  disadvantages 
in  their  efforts  to  establish  a complete  art,  applicable  to  halls,  saloons, 
and  other  apartments.  But,  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances, 
if  a system  of  architecture  as  regarded  exteriors  and  façades  could 
be  modified  in  a few  years,  it  was  a much  more  difficult  task  to 
adopt  a corresponding  modification  in  the  manner  of  dividing  and 
decorating  them  within,  as  such  a modification  involved  a change  in 
society  itself,  its  domestic  habits  and  daily  manners  and  customs. 
A nobleman,  who  required  his  architect  to  build  the  facades  of  his 
house  according  to  the  antique , would  have  been  very  ninth  incom- 
moded if  his  chamber  or  the  hall  of  his  palace  had  also  been  arranged 
according  to  the  antique  type.  From  this  we  can  readily  understand 
how  it  happened  that  the  plans  of  the  Renaissance  chateaux  pre- 
served, in  their  interior  distributions,  all  the  peculiarities  of  the 
châteaux  of  the  fifteenth  century. 

But  the  tranquillity  which  was  re-established  in  the  kingdom  after 
the  religious  wars,  during  which  the  privations  and  hardships  of 
campaign  life  had  made  a notable  interruption  in  the  daily  domestic 
habits  of  the  nobility,  was  peculiarly  well  adapted  to  a fundamental 
change  in  interior  architecture.  The  opportunity  thus  afforded  to 
rebuild,  restore,  or  finish  the  châteaux  was  improved  to  perfect  also 
a severe  and  calm  style  of  interior  decoration,  distinguished  for  the 
grandeur  and  unity  of  a well-understood  system,  very  superior  in 
every  respect  to  the  style  in  vogue  under  Francis  I.  and  Henry  IL, 


400 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


which,  was  uncertain  and  confused  in  character,  now  overloaded  with 
detail,  and  now  poor  and  bald  to  excess.*'  The  interiors  of  the  apart- 
ments, known  as  those  of  Anne  of  Austria  at  Fontainebleau  ; parts 
of  the  older  rooms  of  the  Luxembourg  and  of  the  Hôtel  Mazarin, 
now  the  Imperial  Library  ; certain  portions  of  the  Hôtel  Lambert, 
especially  the  gallery  ; the  lower  floor  of  the  gallery  of  Apollo  at  the 
Louvre, — all  these,  belonging  to  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, are  remarkable  specimens  of  an  architecture  singularly  adapted 
to  palatial  interiors.  They  exhibit  richness  without  confusion,  a 
perfect  harmony  between  the  sculpture  and  the  painting,  a perfect 
correspondence  of  scale  between  the  details  and  the  general  propor- 
tions, and,  withal,  an  air  of  grandeur,  which  we  look  for  in  vain  in 
the  interior  domestic  decorations  of  the  Gothic  or  the  early  Renais- 
sance periods. 

Under  Louis  XIV.  wTe  find  these  beautiful  characteristics  well 
preserved,  as  in  the  interiors  of  the  château  of  Vaux,  of  the  Apollo 
gallery  of  the  Louvre,  and  even  of  portions  of  Versailles  ; but  it  was 
not  long  before  the  sentiment  of  grandeur,  always  tending  to  tur- 
giclity  and  inflation  of  style,  made  its  appearance  on  every  side,  as 
we  can  readily  see  on  referring  to  the  work  of  Le  Pautre  ; the  char- 
acter of  workmanship  became  debased,  and  sculpture  and  painting 
gradually  lost  their  truly  monumental  qualities  in  a constant  strain- 
ing after  exaggerated  effects.  By  one  of  those  strange  transitions 
of  fashion  so  peculiar  to  France,  this  turgidity,  this  universal  and 
intrusive  majesty  of  style,  was  exchanged  presently  for  an  excessive 
meagreness  and  delicacy  of  details.  By  the  multiplication  of  its 
lines  interior  decoration  became,  as  was  natural,  a mere  flexible  dress, 
apt  to  assume  forms  entirely  opposed  to  the  true  structure,  and  read- 
ily adapting  itself  to  every  caprice  of  fashion  and  every  fancy  of 

* I trust  the  opinions  here  expressed  regarding  the  decoration  of  the  Renaissance  will  not  he 
misunderstood.  There  certainly  remain  to  us  from  the  epoch  of  these  two  monarchs  some  very 
beautiful  architectural  arrangements,  as  in  the  gallery  of  Henry  II.  at  Fontainebleau;  but  this 
is  a frank  imitation  of  Italian  art  applied  to  the  traditions  of  the  great  halls  of  the  French  medi- 
eval châteaux.  As  for  the  gallery  of  Francis  I.  in  the  same  residence,  it  exhibits  a complete 
want  of  harmony  between  the  scale  of  the  details  and  the  general  dimensions  ; it  is  true  that, 
as  compositions,  the  sculptures  are  charming  in  themselves,  but  their  boldness  of  execution  and 
their  importance  as  apparent  supports  are  not  justified  by  the  delicately  panelled  ceiling  of  wood 
which  they  seem  to  sustain.  I refer  to  the  gallery  as  it  was  before  the  restorations,  which  have 
made  it  still  more  shocking.  In  the  cabinet  of  Francis  I.,  in  the  same  château,  there  is  evidence 
of  great  indecision  and  fickleness  of  decorative  treatment.  However  graceful  its  panels  and  its 
little  pilasters  of  cabinet-work,  there  is  nothing  about  it  which  does  not  recall  the  wainscoted 
chambers  of  Louis  II.,  although  frittered  away  with  fatiguing  combinations. 


CHARACTERISTIC'S  OP  LOUIS  XIV.  STYLE. 


401 


embellishment.  Elegance  alone  remained,  as  the  last  reflection  of 
the  purer  arts  of  the  past,  the  surviving  expression  of  the  national 
character. 

Towards  the  later  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  the  architects, 
in  composing  palaces,  châteaux,  and  mansions,  concerned  themselves 
very  little  about  arrangements  and  adaptations  for  the  convenience 
of  the  inhabitants  ; they  were  preoccupied  by  the  idea  of  obtaining 
grand  interior  effects  and  majestic  ranges  of  apartments,  sacrificing 
comfort  to  show  ; to  such  an  extent  was  this  carried,  that  the  domes- 
tic interiors  of  the  sixteenth  century  can  be  much  more  readily 
adapted  to  our  uses  and  habits  of  comfort  than  can  the  residences 
of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.  Everybody  at  Versailles,  except  the 
king,  was  badly  lodged  ; there  were  no  passages,  no  convenient  stair- 
cases, no  wardrobes,  but  an  immense  number  of  great  sombre  rooms. 
The  memoirs  of  the  time  supply  us  with  many  curious  details  about 
the  discomfort  of  most  of  the  lodgings  appropriated  to  the  use  of  the 
court.  The  service  was  difficult  even  for  the  grand  rooms  of  state. 
But  these  wretched  interiors  were  concealed  behind  grand  symmet- 
rical palatial  façades  ; and  this,  after  all,  was  the  great  end  of  archi- 
tecture at  that  time.  Erom  the  inconvenience  in  the  interior  arrange- 
ments of  the  private  houses  at  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
it  would  seem  to  be  justifiable  to  conclude  that  the  apartments  before 
that  period  must  have  been  even  more  incommodious.  But  the  con- 
clusion would  not  be  true.  During  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  cen- 
turies considerations  of  comfort  and  convenience  controlled,  not  only 
the  interior,  but  the  exterior  of  the  house.  The  manners  and  customs 
of  the  time  dictated  the  plan,  and  the  plan  imposed  the  form  of  the 
building.  This  was  the  prevailing  architectural  principle  of  antiquity 
and  the  Middle  Ages.  But  it  was  laid  aside  when  academical  doc- 
trines began  to  govern  the  arts  and  direct  their  development  ; it  was 
disputed  in  practice,  although  no  one  ever  undertook  formally  to 
deny  its  importance  and  its  truth. 


2G 


NINTH  DISCOURSE. 


ON  THE  PRINCIPLES  AND  INFORMATION  NECESSARY  TO  ARCHITECTS. 

F,  in  modern  times,  we  occasionally  see  at  Paris  and 
in  some  of  the  larger  cities  of  France  public  and  pri- 
vate structures  well  and  intelligently  built,  and  in  a 
fair  style  of  art,  it  must  be  confessed  that,  in  the  prov- 
inces and  smaller  towns,  there  is  constantly  a great 
deal  of  building  going  on  contrary  to  the  most  ele- 
mentary principles  of  architecture.  Between  a Parisian  mansion  and 
the  town  hall  of  a rural  borough  there  is  not  only  the  distance  which 
separates  luxury  from  poverty,  but  the  impassable  abyss  fixed  between 
a refined  civilization  and  the  most  degraded  barbarism,  — not  the 
barbarism  which  is  the  expression  of  an  imperfect  social  state,  but 
that  which  is  the  forerunner  of  decomposition.  Those  architects 
whose  official  duty  it  is  to  examine  the  mass  of  designs  handed  in  to 
be  executed  in  the  provinces  will  bear  me  out  in  the  statement,  that, 
out  of  twenty  of  these  designs,  where  one  is  passable,  half  the  rest  are 
below  mediocrity,  and  the  other  half  manifest  a complete  ignorance, 
] will  not  say  of  art,  but  of  the  most  commonplace  practical  knowl- 
edge. At  no  epoch  in  France,  before  the  present  century,  has  such 
a spectacle  been  exhibited. 

Without  going  back  into  antiquity,  the  most  modest  house,  the 
humblest  chapel  in  mediaeval  France  was  as  much  a work  of  art  as 
the  baronial  castle  or  the  bishop’s  cathedral.  Whether  large  or  small, 
splendid  or  plain,  they  were  the  work,  as  it  were,  of  the  same  skilful 
hand  and  the  same  quick  intelligence.  But  in  modern  times  the  art 
of  architecture  has  ceased  to  animate  the  extremities  of  the  political 
body,  and  has  been  concentrated  in  the  great  centres  of  population  ; 


ARCHITECTURE  IN  FRENCH  PROVINCES. 


403 


the  more  lavish  and  luxurious  it  is  in  the  metropolis,  the  more  mean 
and  miserable  has  it  become  everywhere  else. 

This  is  a serious  evil,  and  its  causes  may  be  specified  thus  : first, 
an  official  administrative  organization  little  suited  to  diffuse  a knowl- 
edge of  the  arts  among  the  people  ; second,  the  absence  of  a thorough 
method  of  art-education  ; third,  the  lowering  of  the  standard  of  taste 
among  the  upper  classes.  While  France  was  divided  into  provinces, 
each  of  these  had  its  capital,  and  each  capital  its  distinctive  school 
of  architecture.  Orleans,  Poitiers,  Rouen,  Troyes,  Limoges,  Bor- 
deaux, Toulouse,  Lyons,  Dijon,  etc.,  had  each,  like  Paris,  its  school 
and  its  artists,  with  their  local  peculiarities  ; and  these  schools,  even 
if  they  were  in  the  second  rank,  animated  the  provinces  to  which 
they  belonged,  and  spread  their  roots  into  the  most  retired  districts. 
The  governors  of  these  provinces  were  great  lords,  who,  by  position  as 
well  as  education,  were  ambitious  to  render  their  administration  illus- 
trious. The  corporation-spirit,  was  kept  alive,  especially  among  the 
artists  and  crafts  interested  in  building,  and  thus  the  local  traditions 
were  preserved  in  the  most  capable  hands  and  directed  to  the  best 
uses.  The  various  corporations  knew,  aided,  and  criticised  each 
other. 

Under  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  freedom  of  these  provincial 
schools  was  for  the  first  time  subjected  to  limitations.  That  monarch 
included  the  arts  in  his  administrative  system  of  general  direction  ; 
provincial  monopolies  were  encouraged  and  all  liberty  was  stifled. 
One  Lebrun  became  the  general  superintendent  of  every  production 
of  art  in  France.  This  system  was  of  a nature  to  give  a great  im- 
pulse  to  art,  for  a certain  time,  — a character  of  unity  which  belonged 
to  the  spirit  of  the  reign  ; it  was,  in  fact,  a Renaissance  of  the  system 
established  under  the  Roman  Empire;  the  results  were  naturally  the 
same  in  both  cases  ; art,  thus  subjected  to  official  direction,  and  estab- 
lished as  part  of  the  great  administrative  machine,  rapidly  declined. 

We  can  easily  see  to  what  depths  the  official  art  of  the  empire  had 
fallen  under  Constantine  ; and,  in  like  manner,  it  is  very  evident  that, 
in  an  artistic  point  of  view,  the  monuments  built  at  the  end  of  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV.  cannot  be  favorably  compared  with  those  con- 
structed in  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century.  All  the  opera- 
tions of  the  mind  need  perfect  liberty  for  their  wholesome  develop- 
ment ; and  art,  which  is  much  more  an  effort  of  the  mind  than  a 
labor  of  the  hand,  inevitably  fades  as  soon  as  it  is  conscious  of  any 


404 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


artificial  restraint  ; forced  in  a hot-house,  it  loses  its  savor,  and  ceases 
to  grow  naturally  or  to  produce  wholesome  fruit. 

Now  the  architecture  of  to-day  is  subject  to  a species  of  intellectual 
government  much  more  strict  even  than  that  established  under  Louis 
XIV.  ; it  did  not  share  in  the  revolution  of  1789.  Isolated,  indefi- 
nite, a secret  science,  it  has  changed  the  yoke  of  Lebrun  — a yoke 
which  was  at  least  imposed  with  somewhat  of  grandeur  and  original- 
ity — for  another  much  more  vulgar  and  exacting,  belonging  neither 
to  the  spirit  of  our  time  nor  yet  to  the  spirit  of  our  country.  Certain 
paths  of  investigation  and  experiment  are  closed  to  the  architect,  and 
he  seeks  in  vain  for  any  intelligent  direction  with  regard  to  the  few 
which  are  left  open  to  him  ; he  is  warned  to  take  heed  to  his  steps, 
but  he  is  supplied  with  no  guiding  light  ; he  is  told  what  he  must 
not  study,  but  no  one  has  undertaken  publicly  to  lay  down  a course 
which  he  can  follow  with  safety  and  propriety.  From  the  official 
direction  of  Lebrun,  which  was  bigoted  and  tyrannical,  but,  at  least, 
had  the  merit  of  power,  there  is  only  left  a servile  subjection  to  many 
i rresponsible  masters. 

Architecture,  debated  and  bandied  about  among  officials,  amateurs, 
academicians,  professors  who  do  not  profess,  archaeologists,  antiqua- 
ries with  a leaning  for  classic  antiquity,  and  antiquaries  with  a leaning 
for  the  Middle  Ages,  men  of  science,  economists,  and  monomaniacs, 
in  order  to  live  at  all,  must  make  a concession  to  this  one,  must  not 
offend  that,  must  avoid  the  persecution  of  sects,  must  grope  among 
prejudices,  must  listen  to  everybody’s  advice,  must  direct  all  its  move- 
ments in  constant  fear  of  envy,  hatred,  and  malice  ; and  when  its 
work  is  finished,  no  one  is  satisfied,  and  the  whole  town  repeats  the 
familiar  complaint,  “ Why  do  not  our  architects  create  an  architecture 
which  belongs  to  our  time  and  our  country  P Here  is  another  build- 
ins  which  is  neither  beautiful  nor  correct.”  And  yet,  in  the  face  of 
this  constant  and  natural  demand  for  a national  art,  the  architectural 
precedents  which  are  peculiarly  national  are  the  only  ones  which  are 
not  officially  opened  to  study,  the  only  ones,  in  fact,  which  are  espe- 
cially excluded  and  proscribed  ; a new  and  national  style  is  asked 
for,  and  yet  we  continue  to  send  our  pupils,  after  an  insignificant  and 
insufficient  course  of  study  at  home,  to  measure  and  restore  the  monu- 
ments of  Rome  and  Attica, — monuments  the  study  of  which  can 
only  be  useful  to  minds  prepared  bv  extensive  study  to  criticise  se- 
verely, to  reject  with  discretion,  and  to  class  with  discrimination. 


FAILURE  OF  THE  SCHOOL  OF  FINE  ARTS. 


405 


If  an  original  design  is  prepared,  inspired  by  new  ideas,  it  must 
be  submitted  to  the  examination  of  persons  who,  by  conviction,  or 
rather  by  non-conviction,  are  the  enemies  of  every  species  of  innova- 
tion and  of  every  new  application  of  ancient  styles.  It  is  admitted 
indeed,'  theoretically,  that  the  arts  of  Greece  are  types  of  eternal 
beauty  with  principles  of  eternal  truth  ; but  those  who  pretend  to 
make  these  principles  prevail  in  modern  architecture,  not  by  encour- 
aging their  development,  but  by  restricting  them  with  conventional 
rules,  forget  that  Greek  artists  produced  their  masterpieces  under 
the  protection  of  liberty,  while  the  arts  of  Rome,  under  the  restraint 
of  administrative  discipline,  continually  declined  from  Augustus  to 
Constantine. 

Instead  of  availing  ourselves  of  the  immense  resources  furnished  by 
modern  industry,  and  by  the  increased  facilities  of  transportation,  to 
produce  a new  style  which  shall  be  the  natural  expression  of  our  era 
and  our  civilization,  we  straiten  and  limit  our  means  under  an  archi- 
tectural system  theorized  out  of  the  past,  and  conventionalized  by 
academical  usage.  It  is  a common  complaint  that  architects  have  no 
ideas,  and  therefore  everybody  deems  himself  privileged  to  impose 
upon  them  his  own  notions.  Scientific  men  are  summoned  to  give 
their  advice  in  matters  of  art,  and  mining  engineers  volunteer  their 
opinions  about  the  form  of  a capital.  If  a statesman  is  consulted 
regarding  the  financial  question  involved  in  the  erection  of  a public 
work,  he  takes  occasion  to  declare  that  he  does  not  like  pilasters,  or 
that  he  will  not  have  buttresses  under  any  circumstances  ; he  prefers 
plain  walls,  which  cost  a great  deal  more,  and  when  the  monument 
is  finished  accordingly,  he  complains  that  the  architect  is  unqualified 
for  his  duties,  and  that  his  flat  walls  are  like  those  of  a barrack,  and 
that  they  ought  to  have  been  decorated  with  engaged  columns,  which 
in  fact  are  a form  of  the  very  buttresses  the  use  of  which  had  been 
interdicted. 

There  is  indeed  a school  of  architecture  in  Trance,  but  in  this 
school  there  is  no  course  of  architecture  taught,  or,  if  by  chance  there 
is  a course  set  before  the  pupils,  it  is  restricted  to  a few  general 
notions  about  one  of  the  phases  of  the  art.  As  for  the  superintend- 
ence of  the  works,  the  organization  and  administration  of  the  work- 
men ; as  for  a philosophical  study  of  the  history  of  architecture  in 
its  relations  to  the  various  phases  of  civilization,  and  an  examination 
into  the  causes  of  its  development  or  decline,  with  a view  to  a more 


406 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


logical  and  reasonable  application  of  precedent  in  actual  practice  ; as 
for  the  economy  of  the  science  of  building,  teaching  how  all  the 
local  resources  of  material  and  skill  are  to  be  most' judiciously  applied 
in  every  case  ; as  for  the  art  of  so  designing  that  every  motive  ex- 
pressed by  the  artist  can  be  explained  and  defended  by  him  intelli- 
gently and  clearly  ; as  for  those  grand  liberal  principles,  which,  when 
properly  diffused,  should  develop  mental  activity  and  encourage  a 
reasonable  and  actual  progress  of  architecture,  — these  things  form 
no  part  of  the  official  course. 

Amateurs  can  never  obtain  a true  standard  of  criticism  except  by 
contact  with  artists  ; but  to  form  the  taste  of  men  of  the  world,  who 
may  be  in  a position  to  exercise  an  influence  over  art,  it  is  necessary 
that  architects  should  know  how  to  explain  themselves,  and  to  give 
the  reasons  why  this  or  that  motive  or  expression  is  adopted  in 
their  designs  ; and  to  be  able  to  do  this  implies  that  their  concep- 
tions must  be  capable  of  explanation  and  defence.  But  how  can  we 
expect  architects  to  attain  this  end,  who  have  been  accustomed  from 
their  youth  to  employ  forms  imposed  upon  them  under  peril  of  ostra- 
cism, but  never  explained  to  them  in  a sensible  and  reasonable 
manner?  What  are  they  to  say  to  a client  who  declares  that  he  will 
not  have  such  a façade,  when  they  know  not  themselves  why  they 
adopted  it  rather  than  another  ? They  are  silent  because  the  aca- 
demical system  has  stifled  all  independence  of  thought,  and  has 
repressed  every  tendency  to  reason  and  discuss. 

The  amateur,  gradually  habituated  to  the  mute  submission  of  the 
artist,  from  a consulting  client  has  become  a capricious  and  exacting 
master  ; he  naturally  exaggerates  the  force  and  accuracy  of  his  taste 
and  imposes  it  upon  the  architect,  who  is  not  able  to  defend  his  own. 
Tyrants  can  only  exist  where  there  is  resignation.  In  the  absence 
of  a solid  and  rational  system  of  instruction,  the  architect  has  been 
able  to  impose  no  restraint  upon  the  amateur,  unenlightened  by  free 
discussion  and  by  rational  explanations  of  the  art  ; and  in  the  ab- 
sence of  such  a standard  of  criticism,  the  few  sparks  of  independence 
which  may  be  left  to  the  architect  are  liable  to  be  extinguished  by 
the  first  opposition  of  caprice;  thus  we  are  all  afloat  upon  a sea  of 
doubt,  without  compass  or  rudder.  Even  if  the  architectural  school 
of  France  had  kept  pace  with  the  furthest  advance  of  modern  science, 
and  were  familiar  with  all  the  requirements  of  modern  progress,  it 
would,  by  the  principle  of  its  organization,  be  none  the  less  a sort 


I’l. Will 


THE  PALACE  OF  THE  TUILERIES. 

PART  OF  THE  GARDEN  FRONT,  IN  THE  DESIGN  OF  PHILIBERT  DE  L’ORME. 


</> 


FAILURE  OF  THE  SCHOOL  OF  FINE  ARTS. 


407 


of  academical  gymnasium,  in  which  a few  select  pupils,  who  have 
had  patience  to  wait  until  they  could  contend  for  the  grand  prize, 
would  arrive  at  distinction  ; but  as  for  the  mass  of  students,  after 
having  gone  through  a ten  years’  course  of  projects  on  impossible  and 
impracticable*  architectural  programmes,  they  would  have  before  them 
only  the  prospect  of  a provincial  practice  or  a limited  field  of  private 
enterprise.  Now  our  system  does  not  prepare  men  to  fulfil  these 
functions.  They  leave  the  school  with  a few  practical  ideas  and  a 
great  many  prejudices,  no  knowledge  of  the  local  materials  and  means 
of  our  country,  a profound  disdain,  such  as  only  ignorance  can  feel, 
for  those  periods  of  art  which  are  condemned  by  the  school  and 
which  are  difficult  to  study  and  understand,  no  idea  of  the  conduct 
and  administration  of  works,  no  method,  and  a mania  for  producing 
monuments , when  their  business  simply  is  to  build  strongly,  con- 
veniently, and  comfortably.  Thus  the  assiduous  pupil,  who  perhaps 
has  had  no  opportunity  of  enjoying  the  distinction  of  being  sent  to 
Rome,  very  naturally  shrinks  from  practising  architecture  in  districts 
removed  from  the  architectural  centre  ; he  prefers  to  occupy  a second- 
ary and  irresponsible  position  at  Paris,  and  to  obtain  precarious 
employment  there,  rather  than  to  undertake  the  career  of  a provincial 
architect,  which,  without  practical  experience  and  a thorough  educa- 
tion, would  find  him  wanting  in  many  essential  respects.  Hence  the 
superabundance  of  artists  at  Paris,  and  the  extreme  paucity  of  them 
in  the  departments. 

A school  of  architecture,  however  thorough  it  may  be  in  teach- 
ing the  principles  of  the  art  (and  it  is  not  thorough  at  all  in  Paris), 
is  incomplete  without  such  a course  of  instruction  as  shall  develop 
among  those  destined  to  become  architects  a sense  of  personal  respon- 
sibility, and,  consequently,  a knowledge  of'  their  duties,  an  authority 
firmly  based  upon  a familiarity  with  all  the  trades  to  which  an  archi- 
tect is  obliged  to  have  recourse  in  practice.  We  have  a natural  ten- 
dency, with  our  somewhat  Southern  temperament,  to  surrender  to 
others  our  individual  liberty.  Many  capable  men  in  Prance,  many 
men  of  genius,  shrink  at  the  idea  of  assuming  the  weight  of  personal 
responsibility.  This  national  peculiarity  gives  us  excellent  soldiers, 
and  was  the  foundation  of  the  success  of  those  religious  establish- 
ments which,  however,  our  habits,  our  legislation,  our  social  state, 
have  been  strong  enough  to  abolish  forever.  Let  this  same  Southern 
blood  in  our  veins  encourage  us  to  fight  against  this  tendency  of  our 


408 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


national  character,  — a tendency  opposed  to  all  intellectual  progress, 
and,  if  allowed  to  get  the  upper  hand,  the  certain  precursor  of  na- 
tional decline. 

It  would  seem  that  a proper  method  of  architectural  education 
should  not  he  confined  to  giving  to  the  country  every  September  one 
architect,  officially  declared  capable,  but  should  rather  diffuse  profes- 
sional knowledge  and  the  feeling  for  professional  duties  among  all 
the  pupils,  whether  destined  to  be  architects  to  the  state,  or  for  gen- 
eral practice,  and  should  give  them  an  exact  knowledge  of  the  prac- 
tical responsibilities  they  are  to  assume  while  maintaining  the  dignity 
of  art. 

What  would  be  thought  of  a military  school  so  organized  as  to 
form  only  marshals  of  France,  leaving  it  to  chance  to  supply  the 
country  with  captains  and  lieutenants? 

This  is  the  reason  why  the  remoter  districts  of  France  are  deprived 
of  capable  architects  and,  consequently,  of  a respectable  architecture. 
If  we  would  have  such  an  architecture,  we  must  make  architects  so 
thoroughly  and  liberally  versed  in  all  the  branches  of  professional 
knowledge  as  to  be  able  to  develop  all  the  independence  essential  to 
the  public  and  private  interests  of  art.  If  it  is  recognized  as  a fact 
that  the  school  is  and  ever  will  be  powerless  to  form  such  men  in  the 
midst  of  society,  and  must  necessarily  cause  questions  of  persons  to 
override  questions  of  principles  in  matters  of  art,  rather  than  maintain 
such  an  establishment,  let  us  shut  it  up  and  trust  to  private  interests 
for  the  education  of  the  architects  necessary  to  a great  country  ; this 
would  at  least  have  the  advantage  of  liberating  the  public  mind  from 
the  illusions  which  possess  it,  under  the  present  system,  of  restoring 
to  architectural  education  the  perfect  liberty  which  is  alone  consistent 
with  healthy  progress,  of  not  supplying  an  asylum  for  patient  medi- 
ocrity at  the  expense  of  the  state,  and  of  opening  the  whole  range 
of  architectural  precedent  to  intelligent  investigation  and  study,  leav- 
ing to  each  student  the  responsibility  of  choice. 

With  this  preface,  in  order  that  the  real  situation  of  the  architect 
in  the  midst  of  this  nineteenth  century  may  be  understood,  let  us  now 
proceed  to  examine  into  the  nature  and  extent  ot  the  knowledge 
requisite  to  the  modern  architect.  This  knowledge  is  of  two  sorts, 
the  theoretical  and  the  purely  practical.  The  theoretical  branch  has 
been  singularly  extended  within  a century  by  the  activity  ot  archæo- 


STUDY  OF  PERSPECTIVE  AND  SHADOWS. 


409 


logical  investigations  and  the  discoveries  which  have  resulted  from 
them.  If  these  discoveries  only  served  to  gratify  curiosity,  we  should 
not  treat  of  them  here  ; but,  as  they  have  been  made  with  the  pecul- 
iarly analytical  spirit  of  modern  philosophy,  they  should  have,  and 
indeed  do  have,  a marked  influence  over  the  arts,  and  over  architec- 
ture in  especial.  Thus,  no  one  can  deny  that  geometry  is  the  base 
of  all  architectural  design,  and  archaeological  investigations  have  dis- 
closed how  this  science  has  been  alike  applied  to  styles  of  architecture 
apparently  very  different  in  character;  these  investigations,  as  we 
shall  presently  take  occasion  to  explain,  have  also  brought  to  light  the 
fact  that  all  the  architectures  of  nations  belonging  to  the  great  his- 
tory of  the  world  are  but  various  consequences  deduced  from  the  same 
dominating  principle,  the  bond  of  brotherhood  between  all  the  styles. 

The  architect,  then,  should  not  only  possess  an  extended  and  accu- 
rate knowledge  of  descriptive  geometry,  but  he  should  also  be  suffi- 
ciently familiar  with  perspective  to  be  able  to  present  his  design,  in 
whole  or  in  part,  under  all  its  aspects.  It  should  be  for  him  a prac- 
tical science,  so  that  when  studying  his  geometrical  projections  he 
may  be  able  to  have  constantly  in  mind  the  effect  wliich  will  actually 
be  produced  to  the  eye  by  his  projections,  the  heights  of  his  various 
stories,  the  lay  of  the  land,  the  slope  of  his  roofs,  the  thickness  of  his 
walls,  etc.  It  was  the  custom  of  the  architects  of  the  past,  when  they 
had  prepared  their  ground  plan,  to  make  themselves  familiar  with  all 
its  possible  developments  in  elevation  by  perspective  studies  of  its 
various  combinations,  thus  wisely  avoiding  the  embarrassments  of  un- 
expected effects.  If  the  practice  of  perspective  studies  is  useful,  the 
study  of  shadows  is  not  less  so  ; 1 do  not  refer  to  the  conventional 
system  of  projecting  shadows  in  architectural  designs,  but  to  the 
shadows  really  to  be  cast  by  the  sun  on  the  monument  in  its  actual 
position.  The  architects  of  antiquity,  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  of  the 
Renaissance  evidently  took  these  effects  into  careful  consideration  ; 
but  it  has  been  reserved  for  modern  times  to  commit  the  solecism  of 
constructing,  on  a northern  exposure,  façades,  so  covered  with  delicate 
details  of  slight  projection  that  the  sun  can  never  be  in  a position  to 
define  them  with  shadows,  the  trouble  and  time  expended  in  them 
being  therefore  thrown  away.  In  previous  Discourses  we  have  indi- 
cated how  carefully  the  Greeks  took  account  of  the  light  which  would 
be  shed  upon  their  buildings,  and  how  delicately  they  profited  by  the 
shadows.  The  mediaeval  architects  were  scarcely  less  observant  of  the 


410 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


direction  of  the  light  in  arranging  the  projections  of  their  profiles 
and  the  reliefs  of  their  sculpture.  It  must  be  admitted  that  this 
refinement  of  observation  is  not  common  in  our  days,  and  it  rarely 
occurs  to  a modern  architect  when  called  upon  to  reproduce  on  a 
northern  exposure  a façade  whose  effect  is  striking  only  because  ex- 
posed to  the  phenomena  of  a southern  aspect,  to  reply,  “ The  effect 
which  pleases  you  cannot  be  obtained  in  this  position  without  a modi- 
fication of  the  design,  as  the  orientation  is  different.”  On  the  con- 
trary, it  does  not  occur  to  him  to  say  a word  on  the  subject  ; the 
facade  is  built  according  to  orders,  and  the  client  is  surprised  to  find 
it  a mere  gray  and  monotonous  mass,  instead  of  sparkling  with  that 
brilliant  play  of  light  and  shade  which  had  seduced  him  in  the  origi- 
nal. So,  with  a certain  amount  of  reason,  indeed,  he  stigmatizes  the 
architect  as  a bungler. 

It  is  not  enough  for  the  architect,  in  designing,  simply  to  accumu- 
late the  results  of  his  sketches  and  drawings  ; he  must  use  reason 
and  common-sense.  It  is  well  for  him  carefully  to  study  a building 
whose  aspect  has  fascinated  him,  but  it  is  better  for  him  to  examine 
into  the  sources  of  his  fascination  ; for  a building  which  is  charming 
when  situated  at  A,  on  a height,  surrounded  by  trees  or  by  low  struc- 
tures, and  disposed  towards  the  sun  in  a certain  manner,  would  not 
be  pleasing  at  B,  in  a low  place,  hemmed  in  by  high  edifices,  and  with 
a different  exposure.  The  Greek  temples  and  the  mediaeval  churches 
were  arranged  with  regard  to  the  points  of  the  compass  ; and  if,  in 
this,  there  was  a religious  motive,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  archi- 
tects largely  profited  by  the  necessity.  In  regard  to  proportions,  the 
observation  of  site  and  scale  is  still  more  important.  In  antiquity, 
public  edifices  were  large  as  compared  with  ordinary  houses  ; and,  in 
planting  them,  especial  care  was  taken  to  surround  them  with  acces- 
sories which  should  give  full  value  to  their  superior  size.  The  same 
rule  was  observed  in  our  mediaeval  cities  ; the  houses  were  small,  but 
every  structure  destined  for  religious  or  civil  service  assumed  a con- 
siderable relative  importance.  Under  these  circumstances  the  monu- 
ment preserved  its  own  proportions,  and  its  harmony  was  undisturbed 
by  any  rival  surroundings.  But  in  modern  cities  these  conditions 
are  not  regarded.  If  a house  is  to  be  built,  a site  is  chosen  sur- 
rounded by  buildings  all  of  equal  height  ; then  the  architect,  with  a 
frontage  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  to  occupy  on  a street  ninety 
feet  wide,  proposes  to  himself  to  imitate  a certain  lovely  palace,  with 


STUDY  OF  PROPORTIONS. 


411 


a frontage  of  only  sixty  feet,  situated  on  a little  square,  surrounded 
by  low  porticos,  and  surmounted  by  a single  story  ; the  bays  of  the 
palace  are  five  feet  wide,  and  his  must  be  extended  to  ten.  But,  un- 
dismayed by  these  inconsistencies,  his  sketches  are  brought  out,  and, 
with  their  aid,  the  work  of  inspiration  begins  ; that  is  to  say,  he  so 
tortures  an  unhappy  model,  which  was  charming  in  the  original,  as 
to  produce  a work  without  character  or  name.  We  should  therefore 
copy  and  collect  materials  without  stint,  not  to  cut  them  up  or  stitch 
them  together  at  hazard,  but  to  fill  our  minds  with  the  methods 
adopted  by  the  old  masters  to  produce  a certain  effect  in  a given 
locality  and  under  particular  conditions. 

All  that  has  been  written  since  and  perhaps  before  Vitruvius  about 
proportions  may  be  summed  up  in  this  : there  were  certain  propor- 
tions conventionally  accepted  in  antiquity  as  good,  and  the  best  we 
can  do  is  to  accept  them  again  to-day.  But  what  is  the  antiquity 
alluded  to  ? Is  it  that  of  the  Athenians  ? It  needs  but  a glance  to 
see  that  the  proportions  accepted  among  them,  as,  for  example,  those 
of  the  orders,  were  independent  of  dimensions  ; but  I cannot  find  any 
indications  that  these  fixed  proportions  of  the  orders  were  ever  rigor- 
ously followed  by  the  Hellenic  people  during  the  century  and  a half 
of  their  greatest  glory.  These  artists  seem  to  me  rather  to  have  es- 
tablished an  harmonic  system , not  a formula,  such  as  the  Romans,  like 
true  engineers,  set  up  at  a later  period. 

But,  going  back  still  further,  we  can  see  in  the  monuments  of  an- 
cient Egypt  also  the  influence  of  an  harmonic  method,  but  nowhere 
any  evidence  that  the  artists  of  Thebes  subjected  themselves  to  any 
conventional  formula  of  proportions*;  I confess  I should  be  very  sorry 
to  have  it  proved  to  me  that  any  artistic  people  were  ever  under  the 
dominion  of  formulas  ; it  would  cause  them  to  fall  very  much  in  my 
esteem,  for  where  would  be  the  merit  of  the  artist  or  the  art  controlled 
by  any  arbitrary  and  artificial  standard  ? The  Italian  artists  of  the 
epoch  of  the  Renaissance  undertook,  in  their  books  at  least,  to  estab- 
lish positive  proportions  for  the  orders,  but  for  the  orders  alone  ; 
in  the  use  of  these  orders,  and  in  the  general  combinations  of  their 
designs,  we  find  them  free  to  follow  the  dictates  of  their  own  taste 
and  the  requirements  of  reason  and  necessity. 

There  doubtless  existed  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  probably  in 
antiquity,  certain  methods  of  establishing  proportion  in  architecture. 
We  have  very  little  information  on  this  subject  ; traditions  which 


412 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


have  fallen  into  oblivion,  and  an  official  education,  which  amounts  to 
nothing  at  all,  have  caused  us  to  lose  the  thread  which  guided  the 
architects  of  old  through  that  labyrinth  of  mysterious  knowledge  so 
often  explored  by  the  craft  spirit  of  our  ancestors.  For  the  last  two 
centuries  it  has  been  the  custom  to  disregard  as  unworthy  of  notice 
the  methods  employed  by  our  predecessors  in  the  art  of  architecture, 
by  means  of  which  they  were  enabled  to  produce  their  great  master- 
pieces. Ignorance  has  found  its  revenge  in  disdain  ; but,  in  this 
nineteenth  century,  to  disdain  is  not  to  prove.  For  geometrical 
methods,  profoundly  reasoned  and  consecrated  by  long  experience, 
certain  empirical  formulas  have  been  substituted,  of  which  no  more 
satisfactory  reason  or  explanation  can  be  given,  than  that  they 
have  been  transmitted  to  us  at  second  or  third  hand.  The  modest 
master -workmen  of  the  Middle  Ages,  who  are  superciliously  looked 
down  upon  now  by  the  authorities,  did  not  pretend,  as  we  do,  to 
imitate  antique  art  ; but  there  is  reason  to  suspect  that  they  not  only 
understood,  but  practised  the  principles  of  antique  art  much  better 
than  we  do  to-day. 

I shall  undertake  to  prove  this  ; but  in  order  to  do  so,  as  the  sub- 
ject is  worth  the  trouble,  I hope  I shall  be  pardoned  if  I find  it 
necessary  to  refer  my  readers  to  a somewhat  distant  antiquity. 

“ There  is  good  reason  to  conjecture,”  said  Plutarch,  in  his  “Trea- 
tise concerning  Isis  and  Osiris,”  “ that  the  Egyptians  were  accus- 
tomed to  compare  the  nature  of  the  universe  to  the  triangle,  as  the 
most  beautiful  of  all  figures.  Plato  also,  in  his  work  on  the  Repub- 
lic, made  use  of  this  figure  when  composing  what  he  called  a nup- 
tial diagram  ; the  triangle  to  which  he  referred  was  a right-angled 
triangle  with  the  following  properties  : the  side,  which  made  the  right 
angle,  had  three  parts,  the  base  four,  and  the  hypothenuse  five,  the 
latter  representing  the  combined  force  of  the  two  others  ; the  per- 
pendicular he  compared  to  the  male,  the  base  to  the  female,  and  the 
hypothenuse  to  their  joint  offspring.”  Now  this  demonstration  is 
of  very  great  importance,  as  I shall  presently  take  occasion  to  show. 

The  obscurity  into  which  we  have  been  plunged  by  the  irrational 
but  absolute  maxims  of  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.  has  lately  received 
considerable  light  from  the  researches  of  certain  learned  Germans 


* It  is  evident  that  a rectangular  triangle  with  a hase  of  4 parts,  the  square  of  which  is  16, 
and  a side  of  3 parts,  the  square  of  which  is  9,  must  have  an  hypothenuse  of  5 parts,  whose  square 
is  25  : 16  + 9 = 25. 


THEORIES  OP  PROPORTIONS. 


41  a 


and  from  the  writings  of  a very  limited  number  of  Frenchmen.  M. 
Henszlmann,  in  a work  entiled  Théorie  des  proportions  appliquées  dans 
V Architect  are,  has  prepared  the  way  for  discoveries  of  undoubted 
value  ; and  although,  with  the  monuments  of  the  past  before  us,  we 
cannot  adopt  his  system  as  a whole,  it  is  certain  that  he  has  done 
much  to  clear  the  path  for  those  who  may  give  to  his  principles  a 
more  rational  development.  M.  Aurès,  an  engineer-in-chief  of  roads 
and  bridges,  in  his  Nouvelle  théorie  déduite  da  texte  meme  de  Vitrave, 
has  lately  * published  a very  curious  statement  regarding  the  relative 
proportions  of  the  orders.  This  author  has  established,  for  example, 
in  an  incontestable  manner,  that  the  Greeks  took  their  module  or 
unit  of  admeasurement  from  a diameter  of  the  shaft  near  its  middle 
instead  of  from  the  diameter  of  the  base,  according  to  the  custom  of 
modern  times.  lie  thus  demonstrates  mathematically  the  justice  of 
the  measures  given  by  Vitruvius.  But  this  is  not  the  place  to  enter 
into  an  examination  of  such  demonstrations.  It  is  useful  to  know 
the  proportions  given  by  the  ancients  to  their  orders,  but  certainly  it 
would  be  much  more  useful  to  discover  the  generative  principles  of 
these  proportions,  not  only  as  used  in  the  edifices  of  antiquity  and 
the  Middle  Ages,  but  even,  to  a certain  extent,  in  those  of  the 
Renaissance,  although,  in  the  latter  epoch,  the  clew  which  led  to 
those  pure  traditions  was  lost,  and  architecture  began  to  be  aban- 
doned to  the  vagaries  of  fancy. 

It  is  a mistake  to  suppose  that  architectural  proportions  are  the 
result  of  instinct.  If  absolute  rules  and  geometrical  principles,  in 
application,  gratify  the  sentiment  of  the  ege,  it  is  because  sight  is  a 
sense,  like  hearing,  which  can  never  suffer  a discord  without  being 
offended,  however  little  culture  the  ear  may  have  received  in  music. 
I know  not  why  a discord  offends  my  ear,  but  he  who  is  skilled  in 
counterpoint  can  demonstrate  to  me  mathematically  that  my  ear  ought 
to  be  shocked.  It  would  therefore  be  strange  indeed  if  architec- 
ture, the  daughter  of  geometry,  could  not  geometrically  demonstrate 
how  it  happens  that  the  eye  is  offended  by  a fault  of  proportions  in 
a building  ; but  I cannot  regard  the  empirical  methods  of  Vignola 
and  his  successors  as  explaining  the  phenomenon.  We  must'  conse- 
quently examine  this  subject  from  a much  higher  and,  above  all, 
from  a much  more  logical  standpoint. 

AVe  have  seen,  from  the  text  of  Plutarch  just  quoted,  that,  accord- 

* Nismes,  1862. 


414 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


ing  to  the  ideas  of  the  Egyptians,  who  were  excellent  geometers,  the 
triangle  is  a perfect  figure.  But  the  equilateral  triangle  is  that 
which,  of  all  the  rest,  most  satisfies  the  eye,  on  account  of  its  peculiar 
properties  : its  three  equal  angles,  its  three  equal  sides,  its  division 
of  the  circumference  of  the  circle  into  three  equal  parts  or  into  the 
six  equal  parts  of  the  inscribed  hexagon.  There  is  no  geometrical 
figure  which  conveys  greater  satisfaction  to  the  mind,  none  which 
better  fulfils  those  conditions  of  stability  and  regularity  which  appeal 
most  agreeably  to  the  eye  and  mind.  Now  it  is  easy  to  see,  that  the 
Egyptians  employed  the  equilateral  triangle  to  obtain  more  agreeable 
proportions  in  the  more  important  members  of  their  architecture. 
Thus,  if,  according  to  the  usual  custom  in  their  oldest  buildings, 
they  supported  their  lintels  upon  an  order  of  pillars  whose  voids 
were  equal  to  its  solids,  the  proportions  of  the  heights  of  these  pil- 

Fig.  82. 


lars  in  relation  to  their  width  and  to  the  intercolumniations  were  often 
obtained  by  a series  of  equilateral  triangles,  as  represented  in  Fig. 


THE  PROPORTION  AL  TRIANGLE. 


415 


82,  A ; for  these  pillars  were  so  arranged,  either  that  the  axis  of  each 
of  them  intersected  the  apex  of  one  of  the  triangles,  as  exhibited  at 
a a , or  that,  if  a more  slender  proportion  was  desired,  three  entire  pil- 
lars stood  upon  the  base  of  the  triangle,  in  the  manner  indicated  at 
b,  thus,  in  either  case,  satisfying  an  instinct  of  the  eye  which  requires 
that  the  weight  carried  and  the  thing  which  carries  it  shall  not  be 
outside  the  angles  of  an  equilateral  triangle.  If  this  principle  is 
disregarded,  as  indicated  in  the  diagram  13,  the  conditions  of  good 
proportions  are  lost  ; the  eye  being  disturbed  by  a want  of  apparent 
stability,  which  can  only  be  obtained  when  the  two  feet  of  the  trian- 
gle d d' , at  equal  distances  from  the  axis  c,  are  planted  in  solid 
points.  In  like  manner,  satisfactory  general  proportions  may  be  ob- 

Fig.  83. 

! b 


tained  for  the  façade  of  a basilica,  that  is  to  say,  a building  composed 
of  a nave,  flanked  by  two  aisles,  one  on  either  side,  by  inscribing  it 
in  an  equilateral  triangle  in  the  manner  shown  in  Fig.  83  ; and 
the  apertures  pierced  in  this  façade  will  be  well  proportioned  to  the 
principal  mass  if  they  also  are  inscribed  in  equilateral  triangles,  as  at 
a c d,  c d' a,  etc.,  in  such  a manner  that  the  lines  composing  these 
triangles  shall  frame  in  and  enclose  each  opening.  The  desire  of  the 
eye,  which  instinctively  traces  these  lines,  must  in  this  case,  as  in  all 
others,  coincide  in  its  requirements  with  the  rules  of  stability.  The 
Greeks  were  not  ignorant  of  this  simple  principle.  Thus  (Fig.  84), 
in  the  order  of  the  temple  of  Corinth  A,  the  apex  of  the  equilateral 
triangle  is  at  a,  in  the  axis  of  one  of  the  columns  under  the  abacus 
of  its  capital;  while  the  two  other  angles  b f are  in  the  axes  of  the 


416 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Fig.  84. 


-i 


columns  on  either  side,  at  their  bases.  The  Dorians,  desiring  to 
obtain  a more  slender  proportion,  as  in  the  order  of  the  temple  of 
Concord  at  Agrigentum,  B,  caused  the  lower  angles  of  the  triangle 


THE  PROPORTIONAL  TRIANGLE. 


417 


to  meet  tlie  bases  of  the  lateral  shafts,  not  in  their  axes,  but  at  their 
outer  edges,  so  that  the  bases  of  the  three  columns  were  entirely  in- 
cluded in  the  base  of  the  triangle  ; or,  again,  it  they  proposed  to 
obtain  wider  intercolumniations,  as  in  the  order  ot  the  temple  of 
Egina,  D,  the  apex  of  the  triangle  intersected  the  axis  of  the  central 
column  on  the  upper  instead  of  the  lower  edge  of  its  abacus. 

But,  in  some  instances,  the  pyramid  with  a square  base,  whose 
vertical  section  parallel  with  one  of  the  sides  ot  the  base  gives  an 
equilateral  triangle,  was  also  used  as  a generator  ot  proportions. 
The  diagonal  section  of  this  pyramid  gives  the  triangle  c de,  repre- 
sented in  G,  which  was  applied  to  some  of  the  façades  ot  the  ancient 
monuments  of  Egypt,  and,  notably,  to  the  portico  ot  the  temple  ot 
Klions  at  Karnac  (20th  dynasty),  given  in  the  figure. 

Now  whether  the  inclination  of  the  lines  of  the  diagonal  section 
of  this  pyramid,  as  in  c d e,  is  more  agreeable  to  the  eye,  because 
representing  the  principal  outline  of  such  a pyramid  in  actual  erection, 
or  whether  the  equilateral  triangle,  from  which  this  pyramid  is  en- 
gendered, is  too  acute  at  its  apex  to  govern  the  proportions  of  a wide 
façade,  — however  this  may  be,  we  shall  find  that  the  application  of  \ 
the  triangle  c d e to  the  Parthenon,  for  example,  will  develop  some 


Fig.  85. 


curious  results.  By  examining  Fig.  8Ô  we  shall  discover  that,  while  * 
the  apex  of  the  triangle  is  at  the  summit  of  the  pediment  of  the 
Parthenon,  the  two  lower  angles  A A are  exactly  at  the  points  where 
27 


418 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


plumb-lines,  dropped  from  the  middle  of  the  external  lines  of  the 
corner  shafts,  touch  the  pavement  of  the  portico  ; also,  that  the  in- 
clined sides  of  this  triangle,  where  they  intersect  the  lower  edge  of  the 
architrave,  give  the  axes  of  the  third  columns  from  either  corner  of 
the  façade,  and  that,  by  dividing  the  intermediate  space  a b between 
those  two  columns  into  three  equal  parts,  and  by  extending  one  of 
these  divisions  outside  the  points  a and  b respectively,  we  obtain  the 
axes  ot  the  six  central  columns  ; we  further  learn  that  the  horizontal 
line  C D,  drawn  through  the  points  where  the  inclined  sides  of  the 
pyramid  intersect  the  axes  of  the  second  columns,  gives  the  height 
at  which  the  unit  ot  admeasurement,  the  module  of  the  whole  edifice, 
is  taken  in  the  diameter  of  the  shaft. 

In  every  structure  built  on  the  system  of  posts  and  lintels,  the 
critical  eye  is  not  satisfied  with  the  consciousness  of  the  simple 
rigidity  of  these  posts  and  their  strength  relatively  to  the  work  they 
have  to  do  ; but  instinctively  requires  a certain  mutual  solidarity 
among  these  posts,  and  that  the  inclined  lines  of  the  pyramidal  sec- 
tion, which  is  unconsciously  applied  as  the  type  and  standard  of 
stability,  shall  encounter  at  their  lower  extremities  solid  points  of 
support  ; if  this  condition  is  not  fulfilled,  the  expression  of  perfect 
solidity  is  wanting.  Thus,  in  the  façade  G of  Tig.  84,  the  artist, 
desiring  to  obtain  a compact  yet  slender  order  of  columns,  felt  that 
it  was  not  possible  to  obtain  this  result  by  the  generative  means  of 
the  equilateral  triangle,  whether  its  lower  angles  touched  the  cen- 
tres or  even  the  outer  edges  of  the  bases  of  the  two  columns  g and 
//  on  either  side  of  the  middle  column.  So  he  tried  the  wider  spread 
of  the  diagonal  section  c d e of  the  equilateral  pyramid,  thus  fixing 
the  axes  of  the  second  columns  from  the  middle  at  the  points  c and 
d,  and  regulating  the  other  intercolumniations  accordingly.  - As  the 
eye,  in  its  instinctive  recognition  of  the  laws  of  statics,  assumes  a 
certain  figure  with  inclined  sides  as  typical  of  stability,  it  is  natural, 
when  it  would  seek  for  the  proper  expression  of  this  quality  in  a 
building,  to  require  that  the  building  shall  be  disposed  in  accord- 
ance with  this  type,  which  should  be  especially  suggested  by  certain 
well-marked  points.  Thus,  in  inscribing  the  entire  facade  of  the 
Parthenon  in  a triangle  whose  inclined  sides  give  so  complete  an 
idea  of  stability,  and  in  regulating  the  intercolumniation  by  the 
two  points  where  these  inclined  lines  intersect  the  architrave,  the 
Athenians  admirably  satisfied  this  desire  of  the  eye,  and  met  all 


THE  PROPORTION  AL  TRIANGLE. 


419 


those  conditions  of  ideal  stability  so  essential  in  monumental  archi- 
tecture. 

But  of  all  architectural  structures,  those  which  are  isolated,  and 
have  not  so  much  a character  of  utility  as  of  absolute  art,  such  as  the 
triumphal  arches,  of  which  the  Romans  were  so  prodigal,  should 
most  emphatically  express,  in  their  lines  and  masses,  a perfect  har- 
mony, the  result  of  an  attentive  study  of  proportions.  In  such  cases, 
in  fact,  the  mutual  relations  of  heights  and  widths  and  the  dimen- 
sions of  apertures  were  not  dictated  by  practical  necessities  ; the 
programme  gave  perfect  liberty  to  the  artist,  and  it  was  his  own  fault 
if  he  did  not  avail  himself  of  it  to  obtain  the  most  perfect  ideal  of 
monumental  art.  We  are  familiar  with  a great  many  triumphal 
arches  raised  by  Roman  vanity  ; and  if  many  of  them  recommend 
themselves  by  a certain  grandeur  of  aspect,  by  the  majesty  of  their 
masses,  or  by  the  beauty  of  their  details,  very  few  are  completely  sat- 
isfactory in  their  proportions.  Thus  the  arch  of  Trajan,  rebuilt 
under  Constantine,  is  indecisive  and  unstudied  in  this  respect  ; that 
of  Septimius  Severus  is  far  too  heavy  ; that  of  Orange  has  a detestable 
outline,  with  its  clumsy  mass  supported  on  slender  piers.  But  the 
arch  of  Titus  at  Rome,  small  as  it  is,  is  very  happy  in  its  composition, 


Fig.  86. 

i 


and  fully  satisfies  the  eye.  Let  us  therefore  endeavor  to  ascertain  on 
what  principle  its  proportions  were  obtained  (Rig.  8G). 

Here  again  we  find  that  the  generative  principle  by  which  the  lines 
were  disposed  was  the  equilateral  triangle.  The  key  of  the  arch  is 


420 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE 


at  the  apex  of  an  equilateral  triangle,  and  the  axes  of  the  piers  on 
either  side  are  perpendiculars  elevated  from  the  two  extremities  of 
its  base  a b.  The  opening  c d of  the  archway  up  to  the  line  e f of  its 
springing  is  a perfect  square,  and  the  apex  of  an  equilateral  triangle, 
constructed  on  the  line  e f as  a base,  fixes  the  lower  line  of  the  main 
cornice.  The  lower  line  of  the  attic  cornice  passes  through  the  apex 
of  another  equilateral  triangle,  constructed  on  the  line  g //,  which  oc- 
cupies the  entire  width  of  the  monument,  and  which  coincides  with 
the  upper  lines  of  the  bases  of  the  engaged  columns  ; the  latter,  as 
they  are  profiled  boldly  on  the  angles  of  the  structure,  afford  very 
marked  boundary  lines  for  the  whole  mass.  The  square  niche,  placed 
between  the  columns  on  the  face  of  each  pier,  has  its  lintel  on  the 
apex  of  an  equilateral  triangle,  whose  base  is  the  intercolumniation. 
The  tablet  above  this  niche  has  its  upper  line  on  the  apex  of  an  equi- 
lateral triangle,  whose  base  occupies  the  whole  width  of  the  pier  as 
defined  by  the  columns,  or,  in  other  words,  at  the  intersection  of  the 
axis  of  the  pier  with  the  inclined  side  of  the  largest  triangle  whose 
base  is  at  g h. 

Now  it  can  hardly  be  maintained  that  these  geometrical  combina- 
tions are  mere  accidental  coincidences  ; and  if  it  is  said  that  the  archi- 
tect of  the  arch  of  Titus  obtained  these  combinations  by  a delicate 
feeling  for  proportions,  without  having  made  use  of  the  process  we 
have  just  explained,  it  must  be  admitted  that  there  was  a singular 
agreement  between  his  instinct  and  the  geometrical  analysis  ol  his 


work.  There  is  in  Provence,  near  Marseilles,  at  St.  Chaumas,  a little 
Roman  arch  built  on  a bridge  (Pig.  87).  This  structure,  which  is  of  a 
much  better  style  of  art  than  even  the  monuments  of  imperial  Rome, 
and  is  distinguished  for  excellent  proportions,  is  entirely  inscribed  in 


Fig.  87, 


/ i 


\ 


PROPERTIES  OP  THE  PYTHAGOREAN  TRIANGLE.  421 


an  equilateral  triangle,  and  the  arch  itself  is  tangent  to  the  two  sides 
of  this  triangle,  according  to  the  rule  indicated  in  Fig.  83.  Chance 
cannot  give  such  results. 

If  we  apply  this  same  geometrical  standard  to  any  monument  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  of  the  Renaissance,  or  of  our  own  time,  we  shall 
find  that  the  proportions  of  the  monument  are  nearer  perfection  the 
more  closely  the  conditions  of  this  standard  or  type  are  observed. 
The  façade  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  for  example,  is  inscribed  in  an 
equilateral  triangle,  whose  base  is  the  distance  between  the  axes  of 
the  two  outer  buttresses,  and  whose  apex  gives  the  height  of  the 
cornice  under  the  great  open  gallery. 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  triangle  of  Plutarch.  M.  Daniel  Ramée, 
in  his  Histoire  générale  de  V architecture,  and  M.  Jomard,  in  his 

Fig.  8S. 


Description  de  l'Égypte , abundantly  prove  that  the  great  Pyramid  of 
Cheops  at  Gizeh  is  designed  upon  this  form.  Let  us  examine  their 
demonstration. 


422 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


If  we  divide  the  Plutarchian,  or  rather  the  Pythagorean  triangle 
A B C,  whose  sides  are  in  the  ratio  of  3,  4,  and  5,  into  two  smaller 
or  similar  triangles  by  letting  fall  a perpendicular  from  the  apex  B 
upon  the  hypothenuse  at  F,  and  if  from  the  point  F,  in  like  manner, 
we  drop  perpendiculars  F K and  F L upon  the  hypothenuses  of  the 
triangles  thus  formed,  we  shall  have,  besides  the  three  original  lines 
A B,  B C,  and  A C,  three  other  lines  F B,  F K,  and  F L,  and  the 
two  segments  A F and  F C of  the  line  A C.  The  well-known  prop- 
erties of  this  triangle,  deduced  from  the  famous  Pythagorean  propo- 
sition, — namely,  that  each  leg  is  a mean  proportional  between  the 
hypothenuse  and  the  segment  adjacent  to  the  leg,  and  that  a perpen- 
dicular thus  let  fall  is  a fourth  proportional  to  the  three  sides  of  the 
triangle,  — give  us  at  once  the  values  of  these  lines.  Thus,  if  in  the 
original  triangle  B C = 300,  AB  = 400,  A C = 500,  we  have  the 
following  results  : — 


FC  : 

B C = 

B C 

: AC, 

or 

F C 

300X300  

500 

180 

A F : 

AB  = 

AB 

: AC, 

or 

A F 

400  X 400  

500 

320 

FB  : 

B C = 

AB 

: AC, 

or 

FB 

_ 300  X 400  

500 

240 

FK  : 

F B = 

F C 

: B C, 

or 

FK 

_ 240  x 180  

300 

144 

FL  : 

FB  = 

A F 

: AB, 

or 

F L 

240  X 320  

400 

192 

In  like  manner,  if  we  circumscribe  this  triangle  with  a circle  struck 
from  the  middle  point  O of  the  hypothenuse,  with  a radius  A O = 
250,  we  shall  have  D 0 = 150,  or  half  the  height  of  the  leg  B C; 
the  chord  BH  = 480,  etc.  If  we  take  12  instead  of  100  for  our 
unit,  we  have  for  the  sides  of  the  triangle  3G,  48,  and  GO,  and  for 
A O and  D O,  30  and  18  respectively,  etc.  Thus,  by  means  of  this 
figure,  we  obtain  decimal  and  duodecimal  divisions,  which  are  sim- 
ple and  convenient  in  their  application  to  a system  of  constructive 
proportions. 

If  now  we  set  off  on  the  vertical  line  D O,  prolonged,  the  distance 
D E = A O,  and  draw  E A and  E B,  these  lines  will  exactly  represent 
the  geometrical  elevation  of  the  great  Pyramid  of  Cheops,  A B being 
the  length  of  one  side,  D E the  vertical  height,  and  A E the  length 
of  each  inclined  face  on  a vertical  section  parallel  with  one  of  the 
sides  of  the  base.  Now  this  line  A E or  E B is  equal  to  A F,  the 


PROPORTIONS  OP  BASILICA  OP  CONSTANTINE. 


423 


segment  of  the  liypothenuse  A C of  the  triangle  of  Plutarch  cut  off 
by  the  perpendicular  B P.* 

Whether  the  architects  of  antiquity  did  or  did  not  avail  themselves 
of  this  figure,  it  is  certain,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  that  the  me- 
diaeval masters  made  it  the  generative  principle  of  some  of  their 
great  buildings. 

Let  us  apply  to  the  transverse  section  of  the  basilica  of  Constantine 
at  Rome  (Pig.  89)  the  triangle  A B E in  Pig.  88.  We  shall  see  that 
the  legs  A B and  A C,  at  the  points  B and  C,  define  the  positions  of 
the  centre  lines  of  the  outer  walls  ; that  at  the  apex  A they  give  the 

Fig.  89. 


extreme  height  of  the  main  vault  ; and  that  by  means  of  their 
intersections  D and  P with  the  longitudinal  nave  walls,  they  fix  the 
extreme  height  of  the  entablature  of  the  grand  order  with  which  the 
hall  is  decorated.  The  sides  A B and  A C give  also  the  points  G 
and  If,  where  the  arches  m the  transverse  walls  of  the  aisles  spring 
An  equilateral  triangle  I K L,  whose  base  extends  between  the  axes 
of  the  two  opposite  columns  of  the  nave  above  their  bases,  gives, 
with  its  apex  L,  the  extreme  height  of  the  tribune  arch.  Taking 
one  of  the  four  equal  divisions  a c of  the  base  of  the  main  triangle, 
and  dividing  it  in  halves  at  b,  we  obtain  the  positions  of  the  piers 

* This  whole  demonstration  has  been  remodelled  and  simplified  in  the  translation.  It  is 
\.oith\  of  remark,  that  the  line  A E or  E B is  not  exactly  equal  to  the  segment  A F,  as  stated, 
hut  that  they  are  in  the  ratio  of  320  and  320.156  +.  The  coincidence  pointed  out  in  the  text, 
therefore,  does  not  result  from  a geometrical  relation,  hut  is  merely  accidental.  — Traxsl. 


424 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  the  tribune  arch,  and  the  dividing  point  c gives  the  axis  of  the 
pier  e d.  Observe,  also,  that  the  width  of  the  nave,  at  the  level 
D O F,  is  to  the  height  A 0 on  the  centre  line  as  the  width  of  the 
whole  structure,  at  the  level  g l It,  is  to  the  height  A l on  the  centre 
line.  Here,  as  in  the  Parthenon  and  in  the  arch  of  Titus,  the  eye, 
finding  that  the  position  of  the  triangle,  which  is  the  ideal  of  sta- 
bility, is  defined  by  the  well-marked  architectural  points  A,  D,  G, 
and  g,  on  the  one  side,  and  A,  F,  II,  and  It,  on  the  other,  is  instinc- 
tively satisfied  with  the  proportions.  One  of  the  conditions  to  be 
carefully  observed  in  obtaining  good  proportions  for  an  architec- 
tural composition,  is  to  avoid  equal  successive  dimensions  whether 
in  lines  or  surfaces.  The  artist,  therefore,  in  this  case  has  been  cau- 
tious not  to  divide  the  side  g A into  two  equal  parts  ; the  actual 
division  he  made  is  into  the  two  unequal  parts  g D and  D A,  which 
are  to  each  other  as  29  to  21.  The  Egyptian  triangle,  as  a genera- 
tive medium,  its  base  being  to  its  height  as  4 to  2^-,  possesses  the 
advantage  of  encouraging  these  contrasts  between  widths  and  heights, 
without  which  there  are  no  harmonious  relations  of  parts.  In  fact, 
it  is  mainly  by  contrasts  that  the  eye  is  enabled  to  comprehend 
dimensions.  Thus,  a nave  appears  high,  when  it  is  narrow  in  pro- 
portion to  its  height  ; and  wide,  when  it  is  low  in  proportion  to  its 
‘ width.  But  when  you  have  obtained  a condition  of  perfect  relations 
between  the  main  heights  and  widths,  you  have  the  key  to  the  pro- 
portions of  your  whole  structure,  and  such  a key  seems  to  have  been 
found  in  antiquity  by  the  application  of  the  Egyptian  triangle. 
Unfortunately,  so  few  antique  buildings  are  entire  in  all  their  parts, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  apply  this  method  with  certainty  to  most  of 
them.  But,  from  the  moment  when  mediaeval  art  passed  from  the 
cloisters  into  the  hands  of  the  lay  architects,  there  is  ample  evidence 
that  the  principle  was  put  into  general  practice.  It  is  impossible- 
to  say  whether  the  principles  which  these  architects  seem  to  have 
guarded  as  a mysterious  and  exclusive  science  were  obtained  from 
their  familiarity  with  antique  lore,  now  forgotten,  or  from  traditions 
whose  purity  had  been  carefully  preserved  ; but  we  can  always  find, 
in  their  system  of  architectural  proportions,  evidences  of  the  observ- 
ance of  certain  laws  probably  derived  from  antiquity,  although  they 
never  dreamed  of  imitating  the  forms  of  antique  architecture,  and 
although  their  system  of  construction  was,  as  I have  elsewhere  stated, 
fundamentally  different  from  those  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 


Fig.  91. 


TRANSVERSE  SECTION  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  PARIS. 


PROPORTIONS  OF  CATHEDRAL  OF  PARIS. 


425 


Let  us  select  the  Cathedral  of  Paris,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
ancient  of  the  buildings  belonging  to  the  truly  lay  school  of  France, 
a specimen  of  the  real  Gothic  style  of  the  twelfth  century.  Fig.  90 
presents  a transverse  section  of  its  nave  and  four  aisles.  The  total 
width  of  the  structure  being  known,  let  A B represent  a half  of  this 
width,  divided  into  four  equal  parts.  Starting  from  the  axis  A and 
elevating  perpendiculars  on  each  of  these  four  divisions,  the  first  from 
the  centre  coincides  with  the  face  of  the  nave  wall  above  the  columns  ; 
the  second,  with  the  inner  face  of  the  columns  separating  the  first 
from  the  second  aisle  ; the  third,  with  the  axis  of  the  outer  wall  ; 
and  the  fourth,  with  the  outermost  of  the  successive  offsets  of  the 
buttresses  on  a level  with  the  pavement  of  the  church.  Assuming  the 
upper  level  of  the  bases  of  the  nave  piers  as  a base  of  operations,  at 
the  point  A we  elevate  the  perpendicular  A C,  on  which  we  space  oft’ 
five  of  the  equal  divisions  of  the  base  line  ; the  fifth  division  at  E 
gives  the  height  of  the  Egyptian  triangle  and  also  the  height  of  the 
main  vault.  The  line  B D,  uniting  the  extremity  of  the  perpendicu- 
lar D with  that  of  the  base  A B at  B,  forms  the  inclined  side  of  the 
triangle,  whose  height  is  to  its  entire  base  as  5 to  8 or  24  to  4.  The 
intersection  of  this  inclined  line  B D with  the  first  perpendicular 
raised  on  the  base  A B gives  at  E the  springing  point  of  the  main 
vault  ; its  intersection  with  the  second  perpendicular  at  F gives  the 
level  of  the  window-sills  of  the  gallery,  and  with  the  third  perpen- 
dicular at  G the  apex  of  the  windows  of  the  outer  aisle.  The  first 
division  II  of  the  perpendicular  A 1)  gives  the  level  of  the  springing 
of  the  lower  arches  of  the  nave  walls,  whose  centre  points  are  stilted 
about  12-|-  inches  above  the  capitals  of  the  piers.  The  third  division 
I gives  the  level  of  the  keys  of  the  gallery  vaults.  The  section  K I 
of  the  hypothenuse  of  the  triangle  of  Plutarch  (see  the  demonstration 
of  Fig.  88)  gives  the  inclination  of  the  upper  lines  of  all  the  flying 
buttresses,  whose  centres  are  in  the  perpendiculars  1 and  2 raised  upon 
the  base.  If  now  we  take  A D as  the  height  of  an  equilateral  tri- 
angle, we  shall  discover  that  the  side  P D of  this  triangle,  in  its  inter- 
sections with  the  skeleton  lines  of  the  structure  as  already  established, 
gives  at  L the  lower  point  of  the  round  triforium  windows  under  the 
clerestory,  at  M the  floor  of  the  gallery,  and  at  P the  interior  face  of 
the  outer  wall.  In  fine,  a line  R 0,  parallel  with  the  hypothenuse 
1/  K',  gives,  in  passing  by  the  level  of  the  keys  of  the  gallery  vaults, 
the  inclination  of  the  original  pyramidal  roofs  of  these  vaults.  As 


426 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


for  the  gable-ends  and  consequently  the  roofs  of  the  nave,  they 
coincide  exactly  with  a triangle  similar  to  that  of  which  a half  is 
given  in  A B I).  Now  if  these  are  mere  accidental  coincidences,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  chance  plays  very  strange  tricks. 

To  trace  the  main  vaults  (see  Fig.  91)  : a b c being  the  Egyptian 
triangle,  we  measure  off  on  its  base  line  from  a to  c and  from  b to  d 
the  thickness  of  the  archstones  of  the  pointed  arch  e c d\  uniting  the 
point  d of  the  base  with  the  apex  c,  and  elevating  a perpendicular  i g 
on  the  middle  of  this  line,  the  intersection  of  this  perpendicular  with 
the  base  line  at  g gives  the  centre  of  the  principal  arch,  of  which  the 
arc  c d is  the  under  surface  {intrados).  The  arc  m l represents  half 
of  the  diagonal  arch,  and  the  arc  x h half  of  the  intermediate  trans- 
verse arch. 

Let  us  now  submit  the  transverse  section  of  the  nave  and  aisles  of 
the  cathedral  of  Amiens  to  a similar  analysis.  It  has  been  said  that 
Michael  Angelo,  in  conceiving  the  cupola  of  St.  Peter’s  at  Rome, 
professed  to  elevate  the  Pantheon  on  the  basilica  of  Constantine. 
I do  not  know  whether  he  ever  had  such  an  idea  ; but  certainly  the 
placing  of  one  building  on  top  of  another  would  be  no  mark  of  genius  ; 
the  genius  would  be  exhibited  in  maintaining  happy  proportions  in 
a structure  whose  height  should  be  double  the  width  of  another 
structure,  already  recognized  as  a model  of  proportions.  The  archi- 
tect of  Notre  Dame  of  Amiens  has  met  these  conditions  with  rare 
intelligence.  All  who  enter  this  cathedral  are  struck  with  the  gran- 
deur of  the  general  effect  and  the  perfection  of  the  relative  propor- 
tions. In  the  midst  of  this  vast  enclosure  the  eye  is  entirely  content  ; 
it  comprehends  without  effort  a work  conceived  in  a single  inspira- 
tion by  a superior  mind.  Can  this  harmony  be  the  result  of  a series 
of  blind  experiments,  or  the  effect  of  the  successful  study  of  the  various 
parts  relatively  to  the  whole  ? I do  not  believe  in  chance,  especially 
as  regards  architecture,  nor  yet  in  successful  studies,  that  is  to  say, 
the  results  of  pure  instinct.  If  a work  is  good,  it  is  because  it  is 
based  on  a good  principle,  intelligently  and  loyally  followed. 

The  transverse  section  of  the  cathedral  of  Amiens  (Fig.  92)  pre- 
sents a harmony  of  proportions  obtained  by  the  superimposition  ot 
two  Egyptian  triangles.  The  base  A B of  the  lower  triangle  ABC 
reposes,  according  to  what  seems  to  have  been  the  usual  custom, 
upon  the  bases  of  the  nave  piers,  and  extends  between  the  outer  faces 
of  the  exterior  walls  of  the  aisles  ; its  summit  C defines  the  level  of 


Fig.  92. 


TRANSVERSE  SECTION  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  AMIENS. 


PROPORTIONS  OF  CATHEDRAL  OF  AMIENS. 


427 


the  lowest  member  of  the  decorated  string-course  D,  which  extends 
uninterrupted  around  the  whole  interior  of  the  edifice.  The  base 
A B,  divided  into  four  parts,  gives,  at  the  points  1 and  3,  the  outer 
faces  of  the  grand  piers  ; that  is  to  say,  referring  to  the  separate  dia- 
gram P of  the  pier,  the  tangent  g h gives  the  point  a.  If  we  divide 
each  of  these  four  divisions  of  the  base  into  halves  at  the  points  0, 
V,  2',  3',  the  subdivision  U,  by  means  of  a line  drawn  from  it  par- 
allel with  the  side  A C,  fixes,  by  its  intersection  E with  the  side  B C, 
the  level  of  the  astragal  of  the  capitals  of  the  engaged  columns,  rep- 
resented in  the  plan  of  the  pier  at  X X X.  The  second  parallel  to 
A C,  drawn  from  the  point  1,  gives  the  keys  of  the  nave  arches.  The 
parallel  from  the  point  3/  defines  the  inner  slope  of  the  sills  of  the 
aisle  windows.  The  parallel  from  the  point  2 gives,  by  its  intersec- 
tion with  a horizontal  line  drawn  from  the  point  F,  the  soffite  of  the 
key  of  the  aisle  vaults;  while  the  parallel  drawn  from  the  point  2' 
gives,  by  its  intersection  with  a horizontal  line  drawn  from  the  point 
E,  the  inner  face  of  the  engaged  piers  of  the  aisle,  — - the  thickness 
of  the  pier,  given  in  detail  at  P,  having  been  dictated  by  construc- 
tional necessity.  The  vertical  G C being  divided  into  five  parts, 
each  of  these  divisions  is  equal  to  one  of  the  eight  into  which  the 
base  is  divided.  The  first  division  1 gives  the  level  of  the  aisle  win- 
dow-sills ; and  3,  the  astragal  of  the  capital  of  the  central  cylindrical 
part  of  the  piers,  detailed  at  P,  this  being  lower  than  the  astragals  of 
the  engaged  columns  X,  before  referred  to. 

Upon  the  level  A'  B',  which  terminates  the  first  order,  or  that  of 
the  aisles,  the  architect  has  repeated  his  lower  base  A B,  and  marked 
its  extremities  by  the  inner  jambs  of  the  doorways  which  pass  through 
the  buttresses.  Upon  this  new  base  A'  B'  he  has  erected  a second 
Egyptian  triangle  A'  IT  C'.  Its  sides  A'  C'  and  IT  C',  in  intersect- 
ing the  inner  face  K of  the  clerestory  walls,  gave  him,  at  the  point 
I,  the  height  of  the  springing  of  the  main  vaulting  arches,  of  which 
the  point  CT  marks  the  apex.  In  order  to  trace  these  arches  he  pro- 
ceeded as  in  Notre  Dame  of  Paris.  The  centres  0 0 of  the  flying 
buttresses  are  in  the  prolongation  of  the  axis  R of  the  main  piers. 
C'  being  assumed  as  the  apex  of  an  equilateral  triangle,  of  which  one 
side  is  CT  S,  the  intersection  of  this  line  with  the  axis  R of  the  piers 
gave  the  architect,  at  M,  the  height  of  the  upper  passage  of  the  tri- 
forium ; and  its  intersection  with  the  axis  T of  the  outer  aisle  wall 
at  V defined  the  height  of  the  springing  of  the  aisle  vaults.  The  line 


428 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


V R,  also  the  side  of  an  equilateral  triangle,  designated,  where  it 
encountered  the  axis  R,  the  level  of  the  pavement  of  the  church,  and, 
consequently,  by  the  difference  between  this  level  and  that  of  the  first 
base  line  A R,  the  height  of  the  bases.  The  roof  also  follows  the 
lines  of  an  equilateral  triangle.  The  length  of  the  hypothenuse  B'  N 
equals  the  height  of  the  nave  from  the  point  G to  the  apex  C'.  All 
the  mouldings  traced  at  the  point  b are  so  disposed  as  to  be  per- 
fectly developed  when  seen  from  the  point  B.  We  shall  take  occa- 
sion to  refer  again  to  this  principle.  All  the'  inclined  lines  of  the 
Hying  buttresses  are  parallel  with  the  hypothenuse  B'  N.  The 
Egyptian  triangle  was  so  omnipresent  in  the  generation  of  all  the 
details,  that  even  the  slopes  of  all  the  offsets  Y of  the  buttresses  fol- 
low the  inclinations  A C or  B C,  as  if  the  artist  had  drawn  these 
slopes  by  simply  running  his  bevelled  square  along  a general  base 
line. 

Many  of  the  details  of  the  application  of  this  system  have  doubtless 
escaped  us  in  tracing  this  general  section.  Even  the  most  insignifi- 
cant divisions  were  probably  obtained  by  means  of  the  intersections 
of  vertical  lines  with  the  parallels  or  sides  of  the  triangles.  But  if 
the  principle  is  not  contested,  and  we  are  ashed  why  these  geometri- 
cal methods  give  satisfactory  proportions,  we  can  only  say  that  it  is 
because  they  establish  a constant  harmonious  relation  between  the 
heights  and  widths. 

We  must  admit,  with  the  Egyptians,  that  for  some  reason  or  other 
the  triangle  engendered  by  the  sides  4,  3,  and  5 supplies  us  with 
a perfect  standard  of  proportions,  and  that  the  relation  of  2^  or  5 in 
height  with  a width  of  4 or  8 respectively  is  gratifying  to  the  eye. 
If  it  is  difficult  to  explain  wlty  a sensation  of  the  eye  is  pleasing  or 
the  reverse,  we  can  at  least  define  the  sensation.  As  has  already 
been  intimated,  the  eye  receives  the  idea  of  dimensions  only  rela- 
tively ; that  is,  its  conception  of  length,  width,  and  surface  is  obtained 
by  mutual  contrasts  and  comparisons  between  these.  Now  the  rela- 
tions of  1 to  2,  of  2 to  4,  and  the  like,  do  not  supply  us  with  con- 
trasts or  dissimilarities,  but  with  mere  repetitions  of  similarities. 
When  a method  of  proportions  forces,  as  it  were,  the  draughtsman 
to  make  divisions  which  are  to  each  other  as  5 to  8,  for  example,  5 
being  neither  the  half,  the  third,  nor  the  quarter  of  8,  but  having 
with  8 certain  relations  which  the  eye  cannot  define,  he  is  instinc- 
tively using  the  principle  of  contrasts,  which  is  the  first  law  of  the 


ELEMENT  OF  CONTRAST  IN  PROPORTIONS. 


429 


theory  of  proportions.  As  the  eye  is  the  organ  most  frequently  used, 
and  as  it  acts  without  the  aid  of  reason,  it  becomes  a very  delicate 
instrument,  even  to  those  to  whom  it  has  never  occurred  to  try  to 
understand  why  proportions  are  good  or  bad.  Thus,  whenever  the 
eye  detects  a repetition  of  measures  in  an  edifice,  whenever  it  sees 
that  the  openings  in  a wall  are  equal  to  the  piers,  or  that  a certain 
height  is  similar  to  a certain  other  height,  it  conveys  to  the  mind  a 
consciousness,  not  of  proportions,  but  of  similitudes  ; it  is  preoccu- 
pied by  the  equalities  which  it  sees  ; it  soon  becomes  fatigued  by 
instinctively  calculating  the  accuracy  of  the  repetitions.  Although  it 
is  very  difficult  exactly  to  appreciate  with  the  eye  the  fact,  for  exam- 
ple, that  the  great  decorated  string-course  divides  into  two  equal 
parts  the  height  of  the  nave  of  Amiens,  yet  I have  often  heard  per- 
sons, strangers  to  art,  criticise  and  complain  of  this  equal  horizontal 
division  ; and  this  feature  is,  in  fact,  a defect  of  proportions  in  an 
edifice  otherwise  well  conceived.  The  architect,  in  going  through 
the  two  distinct  operations  to  which  we  have  referred,  as  they  are 
tied  together,  as  it,  were,  by  the  extension  of  the  lines  of  his  equi- 
lateral triangle  through  the  level  line  of  demarcation,  believed  that 
this  line  would  not  betray  the  double  character  of  his  design  ; but 
this  fact,  is  so  much  the  more  apparent,  even  to  the  most  uneducated 
eye,  in  that  all  the  other  parts  of  the  edifice  present  happy  propor- 
tions obtained  by  contrasts.  But,  observe,  these  contrasts  have  an 
order,  a unity  ; it  is  not,  sufficient  to  establish  differences  of  heights 
and  widths  in  the  same  building  capriciously  ; these  differences  must 
be  based  on  some  general  and  well-understood  system,  and  the 
method  of  obtaining  proportional  contrasts  by  triangles  is  good,  be- 
cause it  furnishes  certain  points  in  the  composition  which  instinc- 
tively define  to  the  eye  the  existence  of  some  general  system  of  design, 
although  the  method  itself  may  not  be  understood.  There  can  be 
no  correct  proportions  without  unity,  and  no  unity  without  plurality  ; 
and  plurality  implies,  not  similarities,  but  differences. 

The  Greeks  (for  we  must  always  have  recourse  to  them  when  we 
would  receive  light  on  any  question  touching  the  arts)  had  two 
schools  of  philosophy  as  well  as  two  schools  of  art,  — the  Dorian  or 
Pythagorean  school  and  the  Ionian  school.  Of  these,  the  former 
taught  absolute  unity,  excluding  all  difference,  everything  was  one  ; 
the  latter,  purely  empirical  or  experimental,  admitted,  on  the  con- 
trary, infinite  divisibility,  difference  without  identity,  appearance  with- 


430 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


out  an  omnipresent  reason,  movement  without  unity  of  motive.  Out 
of  these  two  philosophical  systems,  one  expressing  itself  in  theism, 
the  other  in  pantheism,  the  Athenians  constructed  a system  appli- 
cable to  the  arts  ; taking  from  the  Dorians  the  principle  of  unity  and 
from  the  Ionians  empiricism,  they  submitted  architecture  to  an  abso- 
lute method,  a generative  unity,  yet  allowed  the  artist  all  his  indi- 
viduality, all  that  liberty  which  leads  to  difference  and  variety. 
Admirable  synthesis,  which  inspired  not  only  the  masterpieces  of 
Greek  art,  but  of  that  almost  unknown  and  kindred  epoch  of  medi- 
aeval art  over  which  the  modern  schools  would  fain  throw  a thick 
veil,  as  if  to  separate  it  from  its  great  antitype  and  conceal  it  from 
the  analytical  study  of  the  architect  ! 

Strictly  speaking,  however,  neither  in  Greek  architecture  nor  in 
the  purest  mediaeval  do  we  find  this  principle  of  empiricism  expressed 
in  the  idea  of  manifestation  without  principle,  but  rather  a simul- 
taneous unity  and  plurality,  not  only  in  the  general  proportions,  but 
in  the  minutest  details.  In  both  architectures  the  principle  of  crea- 
tion was  one,  but  the  artist  was  a creator  who  moved  freely  within 
the  limits  of  this  principle.  Thus,  by  pure  reason,  the  Greeks  recog- 
nized a great  law  of  nature,  which  modern  science  has  defined,  as  it 
were,  mathematically. 

It  has  been  demonstrated  that  a unity  of  principle  is  at  the  base 
of  all  organic  nature.  From  the  serpent  to  the  man  this  principle  is 
rigorously  followed,  and  it  is  from  the  very  plurality  of  its  applica- 
tions that  its  unity  is  recognized.  When  we  consider  that  in  every 
individual  creature  the  development  of  one  member  of  the  organic 
whole  is  made  at,  the  expense  of  the  others,  that  these  individuals 
differ  one  from  the  other  only  by  the  different  degrees  of  develop- 
ment of  the  various  members  of  the  same  organic  whole,  preserving 
in  each  case  a relative  proportion,  so  that  the  creature  which  has  no 
legs  is  compensated  by  a lengthening  of  the  spine,  and  the  one  whose 
lower  members  are  exaggerated  has  but  embryonic  arms,  — the 
horse,  for  instance,  having  upon  each  of  his  members  but  one  colossal 
finger,  developed  thus  at  the  expense  of  all  the  others,  — when  we 
consider  this  rigorous  unity  of  the  creative  principle,  we  are  tempted 
to  ask  if  man,  when  he  in  his  turn  undertakes  to  create,  should  not 
proceed  in  the  same  manner,  and,  indeed,  if  he  has  not  actually  so 
proceeded  in  all  those  eras  of  the  world  which  have  been  distin- 
guished for  the  glory  of  art.  Now,  it  can  scarcely  be  denied  that 


PROPORTIONAL  DIVISIONS. 


431 


geometry  is  the  natural  point  of  departure,  the  organic  principle  of 
architecture,  and,  this  admitted,  that  the  triangle  is  the  most  perfect 
of  geometrical  figures  for  the  standard  and  type  of  architectural 
creation  ; and  further,  that  of  all  the  triangles  the  equilateral,  and 
that  whose  height  is  to  its  width  as  2|-  to  4,  being  engendered  by 
the  right  triangle,  whose  sides  are  3,  4,  and  5,  conform  most  com- 
pletely to  the  laws  of  statics  and  to  proportional  divisions,  the  in- 
tersections of  their  sides  with  the  vertical  lines  giving  divisions 
according  to  a basis  of  unity,  giving  successive  points  recalling  the 
inclinations  of  these  sides,  and  therefore,  proportions  compelled  by 
these  generative  figures.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  evident  that  the 
application  of  these  triangles  to  architectural  designs  obliges  the 
designer  to  keep  to  certain  proportions  between  heights  and  widths  ; 
and,  consequently,  while  he  has  perfect  liberty  to  assume  certain 
heights  or  widths  according  to  the  practical  conditions  he  has  to 

Fig.  93. 


fulfil,  he  is  constrained  by  this  system  of  proportions  to  adopt  cor- 
responding widths  or  heights,  which,  however  much  difference  there 


43.2 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


may  be  between  them,  must  always  be  in  harmonious  relations  with 
each  other. 

Let  us  suppose,  for  instance,  that  we  have  a façade  to  construct, 
composed  of  a first  floor,  forming  a portico,  and  of  a story  above.  If 
A A'  A"  are  given  by  the  conditions  of  the  problem  as  the  axes  of 
the  piers  of  the  portico,  let  us  construct  equilateral  triangles  with 
A A ' and  A'  A"  as  their  bases,  and  B and  / as  their  summits  respec- 
tively ; the  points  B and  l should  be  the  highest  points  of  the 
openings  of  the  arcade.  Dividing  the  heights  C B and  i l of  these 
triangles  each  into  5 parts,  and  measuring  off  2 of  these  parts  on 
either  side  of  the  centres  C and  we  obtain  a proportionate  opening 
for  the  arches,  as  at  a and  g,  whence  we  elevate  therefore  the  perpen- 
diculars a h and  g m as  the  jambs  of  the  archway  ; and  the  second 
division  h from  the  apex  I must  be  the  centre  from  which  we  strike 
the  arch  h 7 m.  Now  as  the  height  a h of  the  piers  to  the  springing 
of  this  arch  must  be  3 parts  and  the  opening  a g 4,  the  diagonal  g h 
must  be  the  hypothenuse  of  the  triangle  described  by  Plutarch  and 
consequently  must  be  5 parts  long,  or  the  same  length  as  the  height  i I 
of  the  whole  archway.  In  this  arcade,  therefore,  we  have  a unity  of 
measure,  but  a plurality  of  parts,  relations,  and  distances.  It  is  well 
to  note,  moreover,  that  the  relation  of  3 to  5,  in  architecture  as  well 
as  in  music,  is  a harmony.  If  we  prolong  the  sides  of  these  triangles, 
as  A B and  A"  /,  they  will  meet  above,  as  at  E,  thus  forming  a large 
equilateral  triangle  A E A",  whose  apex  E should  be  taken  as  the 
level  on  which  the  main  cornice  is  to  be  established.  If  we  prolong  the 
hypothenuse  g 7/  and  the  vertical  C B,  they  will  meet  at  O,  on  which 
level  the  string-course  between  the  first  and  second  story  should  be 
placed.  Thus  the  right-angle  triangles  a g //  and  C g 0 being  simi- 
lar, the  heights  and  widths  fixed  by  their  perpendiculars  and  bases 
respectively  must  be  according  to  a common  unit  of  proportion.  The 
proper  level  P P'  of  the  window-sills  in  the  second  story  being  ascer- 
tained, the  points  R Pd  of  its  intersection  with  the  oblique  lines  of  the 
equilateral  triangles  will  give  us  the  proportionate  width  of  the  win- 
dows. The  eye,  therefore,  will  be  instinctively  guided  by  the  suc- 
cessive architectural  points  A,  B,  IP,  E in  the  oblique  line  A E of 
the  triangle,  to  realize  a certain  geometrical  and  therefore  harmonious 
relation  of  parts  between  the  two  stories,  and  to  recognize  that  the 
whole  composition  is  arranged  according  to  an  understood  system 
of  variety  in  unity. 


COMPOSITION  BY  PROPORTIONAL  TRIANGLES. 


433 


In  Fig.  94  we  venture  to  present  another  example,  under  some- 
what unfavorable  conditions.  It  is  proposed  to  build  the  façade  of 
a château,  composed  of  two  stories,  dormer-windows,  a great  roof, 
and  low  wings.  Dividing  the  whole  length  into  22  parts,  we  take 
4 of  them  for  the  central  pavilion  and  3 for  each  of  the  flanking 
pavilions.  Following  the  constructive  geometrical  lines,  the  observer 
can  see  how  the  general  disposition  of  parts  has  been  proportionally 
arranged  by  them  ; but,  as  the  apex  B of  the  great  equilateral  tri- 
angle is  evidently  too  high  to  be  available  as  an  architectural  point, 
we  strike  from  the  centre  a of  the  base  line  an  arc  h c with  a radius 
a b,  equal  to  half  the  length  of  the  entire  façade  ; by  making  use  of 
the  point  c,  as  indicated,  we  obtain  an  harmonious  relation  between 
the  extreme  width  and  height. 

Fig.  94. 


These  figures  are  not  offered  as  models,  but  only  for  the  purpose 
of  explaining  the  practical  application  of  a method  in  architectural 
proportions  at  a time  when  all  such  methods  seem  to  be  abandoned 
for  mere  caprice.  But  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  no  method 

28 


434 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


can  supply  the  place  of  observation,  knowledge,  and  taste.  While 
availing  himself  of  mathematical  means  to  justify  his  proportions  ac- 
cording to  a unit  of  harmonious  relations,  the  artist  must  ever  remain 
jealous  of  his  individual  liberty.  The  geometrical  theory  of  propor- 
tions requires  as  many  different  methods  of  application  in  actual 
practice  as  there  are  examples  ; this  fact  explains  how  dangerous  it 
is  to  apply  the  definition  classic  to  the  orders  ; for  this  definition  im- 
plies an  immutable  method,  a perfect  formula,  and  undertakes  to  put 
the  modale  or  unit  of  admeasurement  in  the  place  of  reason,  and  to 
substitute  the  absolute  for  the  relative.  Now,  in  architecture,  every 
detail  should  bear  a defined  relation  to  the  general  composition  ; it 
should,  in  itself,  be  neither  absolute  nor  capricious.  Among  Greek 
and  mediaeval  artists  alike  this  principle  was  recognized  and  prac- 
tised ; and  as,  in  a mediaeval  structure,  everything  was  relative,  and 
every  member  occupied  a necessary  and  proportionate  part  of  the 
general  harmony,  every  such  structure,  whether  civil  or  religious  in 
character,  • appears  greater  than  it  really  is. 

But  it  is  necessary  to  notice  some  of  the  architectural  disposi- 
tions which  exceptionally  influence  this  method  of  proportions.  The 
Greeks  (at  least  in  those  of  their  buildings  which  remain  to  us)  had 
generally  but  a simple  order  or  arrangement  of  façades  elevated  on  a 
single  plan.  They  never  superimposed  orders  nor  built  them  in  suc- 
cessive retreating  stories.  Now  it  is  easy  to  understand  that,  if  it  is 
comparatively  a simple  thing  to  apply  a theory  of  proportions  to  a 
façade  built  vertically  on  a single  plan,  it  is  quite  otherwise  to  make 
it  of  practical  use  in  structures,  not  only  of  several  stories,  but  with 
each  story  possessing,  as  regards  the  façade,  a different  plan  from  the 
rest.  In  such  cases,  of  course,  a method  of  proportions  applied  to 
the  design  in  geometrical  elevation  would  be  quite  disarranged  in  its 
effects  when  the  design  is  constructed  and  seen  in  perspective.  The 
eye  being  a portion  of  a sphere  whose  centre  is  the  visual  point,  all 
objects  presenting  themselves  to  the  vision  are  reproduced  on  a curved 
surface.  Thus  (Fig.  95)  let  A be  the  visual  point,  and  B C a mast 
divided  into  four  equal  parts,  B a , a b,  b c,  and  c C.  Now,  as  these 
divisions  present  themselves  to  the  eye  at  A,  they  are  unequal,  as  rep- 
resented in  the  quadrant  at  IT  a',  V c,  and  c C.  But  if  we  desire 
that  the  mast  should  appear  to  be  divided  into  four  equal  parts,  we 
erect  the  mast  D E,  and  so  divide  it  that  rays  passing  to  the  eye 
shall  intersect  the  curve  in  the  equal  arcs  df,f  g,  g It,  and  It  e,  rep- 


INFLUENCE  OF  PERSPECTIVE  ON  COMPOSITION. 


435 


resenting  the  unequal  lengths  D E,  F G,  G H,  and  TI  E.  But  if  it 
is  proposed  to  build  a façade  composed  of  four  vertical  planes,  re- 
treating successively  one  behind  the  other  as  they  rise,  as  indicated 
in  the  section  B B,  made  perpendicularly  to  this  façade,  and  if  it 
is  proposed  that  these  four  stories,  when  seen  from  the  point  A, 
shall  appear  of  equal  height,  it  will  be  necessary  so  to  arrange  them, 
that  the  lines  A I,  A J,  A Iv,  and  A L shall  divide  the  arc  M 0 
into  four  equal  parts  ; thus  the  façade,  which,  in  geometrical  eleva- 
tion, would  be  represented  by  N P Q R,  would,  when  seen  from 
the  point  A,  assume  the  appearance  given  by  the  dotted  lines  n p ([  R, 
and  the  rosette  window  S would  appear  as  indicated  at  s.  When, 
therefore,  an  edifice  is  to  be  designed  with  a due  regard  for  propor- 
tions, it  is  very  essential  to  take  into  account  the  point  or  points 
whence  it  will  be  most  usually  seen,  and  the  diminutions  or  disar- 
rangements which  will  be  created  by  the  heights,  and  by  the  pro- 
jecting and  retreating  surfaces  when  seen  from  the  point  or  points 
referred  to.  But  as  the  architect  is  obliged  to  submit  to  the  exi- 

Fig.  95. 


gencies  imposed  by  certain  appropriations  and  requirements,  he 
cannot  always  dispose  these  heights  and  retreats  as  may  seem  most 
desirable  to  him  in  view  of  the  phenomena  of  perspective;  he  must 
endeavor  so  to  treat  his  façade  as  to  suggest  to  the  spectator  that 
which  his  eyes  cannot  see  and  that  which  ought  to  enter  into 
the  general  composition,  and  must  use  such  artifice  in  the  arrange- 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


43  G 


ment  of  liis  details  as  shall  diminish  that  which  would  otherwise  seem 
too  large  and  increase  that  which  would  otherwise  appear  too  small. 
It  is  then  that  the  artist  of  merit  has  occasion  to  avail  himself  of  the 
extended  resources  of  the  art  (not  the  formulas)  of  architecture. 

We  1 lave  but  very  vague  information  regarding  Greek  interiors. 
The  houses  and  public  monuments  of  Pompeii,  when  compared  with 
those  of  Magna  Græcia,  belong  but  to  an  insignificant  town.  But  of 
the  interiors  of  the  dwellings  and  public  monuments  of  Athens  we 
have  no  means  of  forming  an  idea,  save  by  induction  ; it  can  at  least 
be  confidently  asserted  that  the  Greeks  never  used  in  their  interiors 
the  forms  suited  for  their  exteriors.  In  an  interior  the  field  of  obser- 
vation is  limited  ; there  are  no  distant  views  to  be  obtained.  These 
conditions  suggest  the  use  of  cornices  of  considerable  projection,  that 
their  under  surfaces  may  have  value  as  seen  from  beneath  ; but,  on  the 
other  hand,  these  projections  seriously  obstruct  the  view  of  the  inte- 
rior architecture.  If  the  Romans,  therefore,  used  complete  orders  in 
their  enormous  interiors,  like  the  halls  of  the  baths,  they  do  not  appear 
to  have  attempted  to  decorate  their  smaller  apartments  in  this  way. 
But  the  interiors  of  the  baths  of  Titus,  of  the  Palatine,  of  Pompeii, 
and  of  the  Villa  Adrian  are  not  cut  by  projecting  cornices,  nor  em- 
barrassed by  pilasters  and  columns,  but  decorated  only  with  a fine 
stucco,  adorned  with  sculptured  panels  and  with  paintings.  It  is 
quite  allowable  to  suppose  that  the  Greeks  of  Attica  used  a similar 
method  of  decoration  ; and  it  is  certain  that  when  they  used  orders  in 
the  interiors  of  their  temples,  as  in  the  Parthenon,  the  dimensions  of 
these  orders  were  very  much  reduced  as  compared  with  those  adorn- 
ing their  exteriors. 

In  Persia,  where  the  traditions  of  a high  antiquity  are  still  pre- 
served, the  decoration  of  interiors  is  confined  to  paintings,  encaustic 
tiles,  imbrications,  and  very  delicate  moulded  reliefs,  thus  preserving 
to  the  rooms  their  purity  of  form,  and  keeping  them  free  from  fhose 
features  which,  by  their  boldness  of  projection,  are  apt  to  attract  an 
undue  share  of  attention.  It  should  not  be  forgotten  that  a system 
of  proportion,  which  may  be  good  when  applied  to  a façade  to  be 
viewed  from  a distance  and  to  receive  direct  light,  would  be  misap- 
plied if  employed  in  the  decoration  of  an  interior  ; and  if  the  condi- 
tions of  great  interiors  like  the  basilicas  and  cathedrals  are  such  that 
their  proportions,  in  general  transverse  or  longitudinal  sections,  may 


USE  OE  CLASSIC  ORDERS  IN  INTERIORS. 


437 


be  regulated  by  a monumental  system,  such,  a system  cannot  be  ap- 
plied to  the  details  of  these  interiors.  It  was  hardly  before  the  close 
of  the  sixteenth  century  that  this  error  was  committed,  when  the  archi- 
tects in  Italy  and  France  began  to  decorate  their  interiors  with  orders 
and  features  such  as  were  made  only  for  exteriors. 

Strong  and  forced  contrasts  of  architectural  features,  instead  of 
creating  startling  effects,  as  intended,  often  serve  only  to  apparently 
diminish  the  real  dimensions.  Hence  the  disappointment  with  re- 
gard to  size  experienced  on  the  first  view  of  the  interior  of  St.  Peter’s 
at  Rome  ; and  hence,  when  we  see  certain  modern  rooms  encumbered 
with  columns  and  entablatures,  the  instinctive  desire  to  free  the  inte- 
riors from  these  superfluous  and  ponderous  adornments,  in  order  that 
the  actual  dimensions  and  forms  of  the  rooms  may  be  restored.  As 
light  plays  a very  important  part  in  architecture,  it  is  evident  that  an 
entablature,  perfectly  composed  to  produce  a certain  effect  in  the 
open  air  with  the  light  coming  from  above,  will  have  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent effect  when  placed  in  such  a position  that  it  can  only  receive 
reflected  light.  A Corinthian  capital,  which  is  most  beautifully  de- 
fined when  seen  from  a distance  and  exposed  to  a luminous  angle  of 
forty  or  fifty  degrees,  loses  all  its  value  when  seen  from  below  and 
lighted  only  by  reflection.  It  is  evident  that  the  Greeks  appreciated 
these  natural  phenomena  ; for  the  frieze  around  the  cella  of  the  Par- 
thenon, under  the  shadow  of  the  portico,  is  so  sculptured  as  to  pro- 
duce its  effects  by  the  aid  of  reflected  light  alone;  and  their  Doric 
capital,  which  was  designed  so  as  to  preserve  its  character,  whether 
illuminated  by  direct  or  reflected  light,  often  had  its  delicately  slop- 
ing echinus  decorated  with  superficial  designs  in  color,  with  especial 
reference  to  being  seen  from  below  in  their  interiors.  But  it  is  hard 
to  believe  that  these  artists,  before  the  Roman  domination,  ever  used 
Corinthian  columns  and  entablatures  in  their  rooms,  or  were  ever  so 
enslaved  to  the  terms  of  a formula  as  indiscriminately  to  apply  stand- 
ard architectural  members  to  positions  where  they  must  necessarily 
injure,  confuse,  or  at  least  mask  each  other. 

If  it  is  the  aim  of  an  architect,  when  he  fits  an  architectural  order 
to  a room  in  the  modern  fashion,  to  diminish  the  apparent  extent  or 
height  of  this  room  by  so  doing,  I admit  that  he  exactly  attains  his 
purpose  ; but  if  it  is  desirable  to  produce  the  contrary  effect,  he  must 
avail  himself  of  the  resources  of  his  art  to  magnify  and  not  to  reduce 
these  apparent  proportions. 


438 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Gothic  architecture,  said  M.  Raoul  Rochette  in  1846,*  “presents 
certain  inconsistencies  which  cannot  be  justified  by  the  laws  of  good 
taste,  or  conciliated  with  the  civilization  of  modern  society.  The 
distribution  of  its  architectural  members  is  governed  by  none  of 
those  principles  which  have  become  notes  of  art  only  because  they 
are  the  result  of  experience.  It  has  no  system  of  proportions  ; 
its  details  have  no  fixed  and  understood  relations  with  the  masses  ; 
in  the  invention  as  well  as  in  the  employment  of  ornaments,  every- 
thing is  arbitrary  and  capricious,  and  the  profusion  of  these  orna- 
ments on  the  outside  of  the  churches,  compared  to  the  complete  absence 
of  them  in  the  interiors,  is  a painful  blemish  and  an  indefensible 
absurdity.” 

The  illustrious  perpetual  secretary  unconsciously  paid  a high  com- 
pliment to  Gothic  architecture  in  thus  bearing  witness  to  the  dif- 
ference of  treatment  between  its  interiors  and  exteriors  ; for  this 
difference  was  indeed  in  accordance  with  a principle  which  had 
become  a rule  of  art  because  it  was  the  result  of  experience  as  well  as  of 
good  sense  and  good  taste.  In  fact,  if  a façade  of  great  extent  and 
height,  which  can  be  seen  under  various  aspects,  from  far  and  near, 
in  front  and  obliquely,  requires  to  be  broken  by  numerous  projections, 
in  order  to  obtain  agreeable  and  varied  effects  of  light  and  shade 
from  every  point  of  view,  not  only  the  points  of  view,  but  the  sur- 
faces viewed,  are  necessarily  comparatively  restricted  in  interiors,  and 
the  architects  should  take  these  new  conditions  of  limitation  into 
careful  consideration. 

Although  the  Romans  often  neglected  this  principle,  I firmly  believe 
that  the  Greeks  held  to  it  strictly  ; and  as  for  the  mediaeval  architects, 
there  is  ample  evidence  that  they  habitually  submitted  to  it.  Thus, 
whatever  the  dimensions  of  their  great  interiors,  we  observe  that  a sin- 
gle order  occupies  the  whole  height  from  the  pavement  to  the  spring- 
ing of  the  vaults.  Rut  when,  in  the  era  of  transition,  as  in  the  cathe- 
drals  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  of  Novon,  of  Sens,  Senlis,  and  in  certain 
churches  belonging  to  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century,  an  order  was 
placed  over  an  arcade  along  the  nave,  the  architects  had  sufficient 
taste  in  all  such  cases  to  make  this  lower  arcade,  or  order,  so  subor- 
dinate to  the  superstructure  as  to  serve,  as  it  were,  simply  as  its  base. 

* “ Considérations  sur  la  question  de  savoir  s'il  est  convenable,  au  XIXe  siècle,  de  bâtir  des 
églises  en  style  gothique  ” : a report  read  before  the  Academy  ot  I ine  Arts  in  1846,  and  communi- 
cated to  the  Minister  of  the  Interior. 


MEDLEYAL  INTERIORS. 


439 


But  when  this  architecture  was  finally  developed  into  a complete 
style  and  a perfect  unity,  as  at  Rheims,  Amiens,  Bourges,  Chartres, 
etc.,  the  more  its  exteriors  were  accentuated  by  mouldings  and  pro- 
jections and  features  of  marked  expression,  in  order  to  profit  by  the 
effects  of  direct  sunlight,  the  simpler  were  the  lines  of  the  interiors, 
the  less  bold  the  projections,  the  more  unity  in  the  whole  decorative 
treatment.  In  these  edifices,  the  exterior  is  made  to  invite  the  spec- 
tator to  turn  around,  to  admire  and  to  behold  the  various  effects  at 
every  point  of  view  ; in  the  interior,  on  the  contrary,  everything  is 
arranged  to  fill  the  mind  with  ideas  of  calmness  and  grandeur  ; the 
sculpture  is  rare,  the  vertical  lines  are  multiplied,  the  details  are  re- 
duced to  the  human  scale,  and  everything  concurs  to  produce  a grand 
unity  of  effect.  And  when  we  analyze  these  details,  we  find  that 
every  member  and  every  profile  has  been  traced  for  the  position  it 
occupies,  and  to  take  its  designated  part  in  the  general  effect.  If  the 
cathedral  of  Amiens  were  a mass  of  ruins,  every  portion  could  be  as- 
signed to  its  appropriate  place  by  means  of  the  geometrical  formula 
indicated  in  Big.  94. 

M.  Raoul  Rochette  complained  of  the  poverty  of  the  interiors  of 
our  mediaeval  churches  as  compared  to  their  façades,  without  consid- 
ering that  these  interiors  were  originally  decorated  with  paintings, 
stained  glass,  and  with  appointments  and  furniture  generally  very  rich 
in  character.  In  like  manner  it  is  evident  that  Greek  interiors  were 
decorated  rather  with  paintings  and  movable  objects  than  by  a com- 
plication and  elaboration  of  purely  architectural  features.  This  is  a 
necessary  inference,  because  the  Hellenic  artists  must  have  recognized 
and  rigorously  followed  a principle  so  true  and  so  natural.  But  what 
was  the  cella  of  a Greek  temple  compared  to  the  interior  of  the  cathe- 
dral of  Amiens,  — a surface  of  three  hundred  square  feet  to  a surface 
of  twenty  thousand  ? Do  not  let  me  be  understood  as  referring  to 
this  difference  as  a test  of  superiority  ; for  art  is  independent  of  di- 
mensions, and  no  one  will  pretend  that  the  church  of  La  Madeleine  is 
equal  to  the  little  temple  of  Theseus  ; nor  yet  can  it  be  contested  that 
superiority  of  size  carries  with  it  an  increased  difficulty  of  the  prob- 
lems to  be  solved  by  the  architect.  If  it  requires  careful  study  and 
repeated  trials  to  give  happy  proportions  and  a suitable  decoration  to 
a room  of  eighteen  by  thirty  feet,  it  needs  studies  still  more  profound 
to  preserve  an  aspect  of  unity,  harmony,  and  grandeur  in  a hall  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  by  four  hundred  feet.  Yet,  certainly,  this  increased 


440 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


difficulty  was  triumphantly  met  in  the  civil  and  religious  edifices  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  even  of  the  Renaissance,  as  shown,  not  only  in 
the  churches  of  that  time,  but  in  the  great  halls  of  Sens,  Poitiers, 
Montargis,  of  the  palace  at  Paris,  of  the  château  of  Coney,  and  even 
in  that  of  Fontainebleau,  although  of  a period  much  more  recent  ; 
and,  observe,  this  unity  of  effect  was  not  obtained  by  repeating  in  the 
interior  the  external  features  of  architecture. 

Even  the  Romans  applied  this  principle,  in  their  better  moments, 
or,  I should  rather  say,  when  they  gave  full  liberty  to  the  Greek  artists 
in  their  employ,  and  did  not  thrust  their  love  of  the  sumptuous  and 
colossal  between  the  artist  and  his  work  ; for  sometimes,  when  they 
decorated  the  halls  of  their  baths,  and  more  especially  rooms  of  less 
dimensions,  with  orders  originally  invented  for  exteriors,  they  were 
wise  enough  to  modify  these  orders  with  discretion  and  artistic  feel- 
ing to  suit  their  new  positions. 

But,  on  the  whole,  the  Greek  artists,  in  the  employ  of  the  Romans, 
had  a deleterious  influence  over  Roman  architecture.  Since  it  was  a 
policy  or  a mark  of  good  taste  among  the  Romans  to  regard  themselves 
rather  as  the  protectors  than  the  conquerors  of  the  Greeks,  the  latter 
cunningly  availed  themselves  of  their  privileges,  not  to  place  the  deli- 
cate rules  of  their  art  in  opposition  to  the  coarse  and  ostentatious  taste 
of  their  patrons,  but  to  seduce  these  barbarians  by  lavishing  richness 
of  material  and  ’elaboration  of  workmanship. 

The  Romans  cared  little  to  appropriate  and  transmit  to  posterity 
the  ideal  distinction  of  Greek  art,  which  they  could  not  understand, 
but  they  regarded  it  as  a matter  of  importance  to  appear  the  most 
powerful  people  on  earth,  and,  by  using  the  materials  most  difficult 
to  work  and  by  profuseness  of  decoration,  to  fill  the  world  with  won- 
der at  their  resources  rather  than  with  admiration  at  their  taste.  The 
Greeks,  accepting  these  conditions  as  imposed  by  the  Roman  barba- 
rian, pushed  profusion  to  such  extremities  as  presently  to  bring  the  art, 
of  which  they  were  such  docile  workmen,  to  disgrace  and  contusion. 
But  when  this  Roman  art  had  fallen  to  such  depths  of  vulgarity,  and 
had  become  so  splendidly  insignificant  that  it  was  no  longer  possi- 
ble to  restore  it  to  a healthy  condition,  the  Greeks,  instead  of  them- 
selves sharing  in  the  degradation  to  which  they  had  been  such  willing 
assistants,  recovered  their  natural  qualities  as  soon  as  the  pressure 
upon  their  genius  was  removed,  and  Byzantium  in  the  fifth  century 
beheld  them  once  more  free  to  develop  their  own  inspirations  ; but 


PROGRESS  ACCORDING  TO  GREEK  PRINCIPLES. 


441 


then,  instead  of  reproducing  the  Parthenon,  they  contented  themselves 
with  clothing  the  structure  which  the  Romans  had  invented,  and  which 
had  been  exclusively  consecrated  to  Roman  uses,  with  an  architectu- 
ral or  decorative  envelope  far  more  appropriate  than  that  which  had 
been  employed  under  the  empire  from  Augustus  to  Constantine. 
Always  in  the  front  of  progress,  they  still  maintained  their  position 
while  working  for  their  powerful  patrons  ; abandoning  their  Ionic 
and  Doric  traditions  under  the  influence  of  new  conditions  and 
accepting  the  Roman  architecture  for  what  it  wras,  they  arranged 
it,  and  out  of  a structure  they  at  length  produced  an  art.  Instead 
of  weeping  forever  upon  the  steps  of  the  Parthenon,  like  the  Jews 
among  the  ruins  of  Solomon’s  temple,  they  educed  out  of  the  effete 
art  of  Rome  in  the  third  century  the  art  of  Byzantium. 

We  have  observed  that  the  Athenians  of  antiquity  never  invented, 
but  combined,  purified,  perfected.  They  were  the  best  editors  of  the 
works  of  mankind,  because  everything  which  they  received,  whether 
in  art  or  in  philosophy,  passed  through  the  alembic  of  an  elevated 
and  logical  spirit  ; thus,  under  Pericles,  out  of  the  experiments  of  the 
Ionians  and  Dorians,  they  deduced  the  architecture  and  sculpture  of 
the  Parthenon  ; from  the  schools  of  Pythagoras,  Parmenides,  çmd 
Zeno,  and  from  the  empiric  system  of  Ionia,  Plato  and  Aristotle  were 
born.  And,  at  a later  period,  this  same  Greek  race  retained  in  its 
impoverished  blood  energy  enough  to  develop  from  the  worn-out  art 
of  old  Rome  that  vigorous  offspring  which  we  call  Byzantine  archi- 
tecture, the  mother  of  everything  which  merits  the  name  of  architec- 
ture since  the  days  of  Constantine. 

Our  mediæval  ancestors,  like  the  Greeks,  whom  they  succeeded  in 
the  West,  were  lovers  of  progress,  and  formed  a complete  whole  out 
of  the  scattered  traditions  and  fragments  of  anterior  arts.  Like  the 
Greeks,  also,  they  never  paused  in  their  progress,  and,  after  having 
thus  built  up  an  art,  they  continued  to  move  onward,  till  they  finally 
brought  about  its  fall  by  the  abuse  of  its  own  principles  ; after  hav- 
ing had  their  sophists,  their  descendants  came  under  the  yoke  of  a 
Roman  protectorate,  as  it  were,  to  play  once  more  the  part  of  the 
old  Greeks,  and  to  debase  the  architecture  of  Rome.  When  we 
shall  have  become  weary  of  contemplating  this  last  and  pale  reflec- 
tion of  a glory  which  is  not  our  own,  we  shall,  perhaps,  like  the 
Greeks  at  Byzantium,  avail  ourselves  of  our  own  resources,  and  once 
more,  by  reverting  to  the  principles  which  our  ancestors  followed 


442 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


with  such  signal  success,  find  a new  application  of  a form  of  art 
which  has  ceased  to  obtain  expression  or  comprehension  among  us. 

Modern  society  is  floundering  about  among  many  strange  contra- 
dictions, and  not  the  least  among  these  is  that  those  who  approve  and 
defend  the  revival  of  classic  architecture  among  us  are  pursuing  a 
course  diametrically  opposed  to  that  always  followed  by  the  Greeks 
of  antiquity.  Now  if,  in  respect  to  antique  art,  the  Greeks  were 
capricious  and  extravagant,  while  the  Romans  were  the  real  artists, 
the  classic  revivalists  are  logical  in  throwing  aside  the  productions  of 
mediaeval  art  ; but  if  the  Greeks  were  the  artists,  and  the  Romans 
evidently  the  barbarians  who  sought  to  civilize  themselves  by  contact 
with  their  proteges,  it  is  the  genius  of  the  Greeks  which  ought  to  sur- 
vive in  art,  and  not  that  of  the  Romans  ; but  the  peculiarity  of  Greek 
genius  was  constant  mobility  ; rather  than  stop  or  retrograde,  it  pre- 
ferred to  move  on  even  towards  a decline,  if  it  could  not  find  a profit- 
able field  for  its  labors  by  taking  up  a foreign  art.  The  Greeks  did 
not  throw  aside  Roman  architecture  when  the  wearied  empire  placed 
its  art  in  their  hands,  but  regenerated  and  rejuvenated  it,  so  that  the 
art  was  not  onty  revived  into  a condition  of  health,  but  enabled  to 
furnish  the  elements  of  new  styles  to  the  whole  West  and  to  a part  of 
the  East.  Now,  referring  here  to  the  question  of  the  arts  alone,  let 
us  not  forget  that  between  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans  there  was  a 
diametrical  opposition  of  principles.  Whether  in  a political,  govern- 
mental point  of  view,  whether  in  respect  to  civilization,  the  Romans 
were  inferior  or  superior  to  the  Greeks,  or  whether  the  Roman  unifi- 
cation has  or  has  not  been  of  immense  benefit  to  humanity,  I do  not 
propose  to  discuss  ; but  it  is  certain  that  this  unification  was  entirely 
opposed  to  the  Greek  spirit,  as  every  such  tendency  must  be  to  every 
artistic  people.  Yet  the  conquered  Greeks  have  always  been  regarded 
as  superior  to  the  Romans  by  all  the  distance  which  separates  a 
tragedy  of  Sophocles  from  an  ordinance  of  police.  Artistic  peoples 
have  always  been  exclusive  in  their  nature,  apt  to  coalesce  within  nar- 
row social  limits.  The  Greeks  and  Egyptians,  who  were  the  artistic 
races  of  antiquity,  always,  even  to  the  end,  entertained  for  the  bar- 
barian, for  the  foreigner,  sentiments  of  contempt  and  repulsion.  But 
the  Roman  cosmopolite  could  not  be  an  artist.  There  was,  on  the 
other  hand,  a real  art  in  France  at  the  feudal  epoch,  because  isolation 
was  then,  as  it  has  ever  been  in  the  history  of  the  world,  favorable  to 
the  development  of  art. 


ART  OF  THE  GREEKS  IN  SUBJECTION. 


443 


The  part  which  the  Romans  played  in  the  history  of  civilization 
was  so  really  beautiful  and  grand,  that  they  can  well  afford  to  dispense 
with  any  credit  which  is  not  actually  their  due.  In  their  conduct 
with  reference  to  art  they  were  perfectly  consistent.  Thus,  if  we 
look  at  their  administration  of  justice,  we  shall  find  that,  in  their 
earlier  history,  it  was  based  upon  absolute  principles,  like  the  laws 
of  the  Twelve  Tables,  for  instance  ; but,  as  soon  as  the  empire  was 
established,  it  was  found  that  the  strict  application  of  this  system  was 
in  contradiction  to  the  spirit  and  customs  of  the  nations  under  their 
control;  therefore  they  instituted prœtors,  or  interpreters  of  the  law, 
leaning  rather  towards  equity  than  towards  the  letter.  In  the  same 
manner,  in  the  domain  of  philosophy  they  had  their  stoics,  whose 
systems  were  no  longer  confined  to  a text,  a written  law,  but  accom- 
modated to  the  various  conditions  of  the  human  mind,  to  local  cir- 
cumstances and  traditions,  and  to  the  customs  and  prevailing  ideas 
of  their  time.  This  explains  how,  in  their  buildings,  they  gave  a 
place  to  Greek  arts,  considering  structure  as  a written  law,  but 
admitting  of  very  different  applications.  It  agrees  perfectly  with 
their  spirit  as  the  great  civilizers  and  levellers  of  the  world;  but  it  is 
quite  inadmissible  to  suppose  that  the  Greeks,  because  they  accepted 
the  part  assigned  them  in  this  great  drama,  thereby  definitely  aban- 
doned their  own  art,  so  logical  and  elevated  in  its  tone  and  so  abso- 
lute in  its  principles.  It  is  true  that  the  Greeks  worked  for  their 
masters,  but  they  never  undertook  to  demonstrate  to  them  the  princi- 
ples of  their  exclusive  art,  because  they  well  knew  that  this  very 
exclusiveness  would  render  these  principles  unacceptable  to  their  con- 
querors. Although  the  distinctive  spirits  of  these  two  races  seemed 
to  be  perfectly  amalgamated  in  Roman  architecture,  yet  the  same 
fundamental  antipathy  which  exhibited  itself  before  Paulus  Æmilius 
still  existed,  and,  as  soon  as  the  Roman  Empire  was  established  at 
Byzantium,  it  was  once  more  openly  developed.  Notwithstanding 
the  partiality  of  Adrian,  and  in  spite  of  the  wise  and  moderate  spirit 
of  the  Automnes,  the  Greeks  always  regarded  the  Romans  as  bar- 
barians. The  Greek  did  not  believe  in  the  kind  of  work  he  did  for 
his  powerful  masters  ; he  sold  or  lent  his  labor,  but  he  cherished  his 
principles  and  his  worship  of  art  in  his  own  breast,  fondly  looking 
forward  to  the  day  when  he  could  express  himself  in  perfect  freedom. 
There  is  enough  of  this  Greek  spirit  of  antagonism  left  in  our  repub- 
lic of  the  arts  to  make  this  phase  in  the  history  of  architecture  well 
worth  a careful  study. 


444 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


The  Romans  never  appeared  to  have  been  sensible  to  lmrtnony  of 
proportions  ; they  were  an  ostentatious  people,  who  would  have  sac- 
rificed the  most  beautiful  proportions  for  the  sake  of  introducing  a 
few  columns  of  marble,  porphyry,  or  granite.  So  far  as  Roman  struc- 
ture is  concerned,  if  it  always  produces  a grand  effect,  it  is  because 
it  is  true  and  carefully  calculated  ; these  qualities  insensibly  recom- 
mend it  to  the  eye.  But,  as  we  have  had  occasion  to  say  before,  the 
decorative  envelope  which  covered  this  structure  often  detracted  from 
its  grandeur  and  majesty  ; certainly,  this  envelope  never  conferred 
these  qualities  on  the  building  to  which  it  was  applied.  I am  firmly 
convinced  that  if  we  could  see  to-day  any  of  the  antique  monuments 
of  Rome  preserved  intact,  apart  from  the  immense  interest  they  would 
have  in  our  eyes  and  apart  from  the  dimensions  of  the  masses  and 
the  richness  of  material,  we  should  have  the  same  feeling  of  disap- 
pointment that  arises  on  viewing  for  the  first  time  the  interior  of  St. 
Peter’s  at  Rome,  - — a disappointment  resulting  simply  from  the  want 
of  proportion  in  the  architectural  features  with  which  that  enormous 
structure  is  clothed.  Deprive  the  interior  of  St.  Peter’s  of  its  great 
stucco  pilasters  and  of  its  entablatures,  on  whose  projections  a man 
might  ride  on  horseback,  take  away  its  monstrous  statues,  its  panelled 
incrustations,  and  all  the  ornaments  which  encumber  and  deface  its 
lines,  and  we  should  have  left  a great  hall  which  would  appear  what 
it  really  is,  colossal.  It  is  only  at  twilight,  when  the  masses  alone 
can  be  seen,  that  the  true  grandeur  of  St.  Peter’s  is  fully  apparent  ; 
but  in  broad  daylight  no  idea  can  be  formed  of  its  actual  size,  unless 
the  eyes  are  so  shaded  with  the  hand  as  to  embrace  only  the  pave- 
ment of  the  church,  that  is  to  say,  a plain  tranquil  surface,  quietly 
decorated  with  compartments  of  marble  and  porphyry,  toned  down 
by  an  accumulation  of  dust. 

The  law  of  the  predominance  of  masses  was  rigorously  applied  by 
the  artists  of  the  Byzantine  Empire,  who  preserved  enough  of  the  old 
Greek  spirit  to  appreciate  its  primary  importance,  and  it  was  observed 
also  in  the  architecture  of  the  Caliphs,  of  the  Moors,  of  the  Persians, 
and  of  the  Romanesque  builders  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  I cannot  say,  of  course,  that  this  second-hand  art  was  at  all 
comparable  to  Hellenic  art,  nor  that  the  sophists  of  the  Alexandrian 
schools  were  equal  to  Plato,  nor  that  the  Song  of  Roland  rivals  the 
Iliad  in  all  respects  ; but,  I repeat,  we  must  press  on,  and  not  waste 
our  lives  in  vain  regrets. 


BYZANTINE  INTERIORS. 


445 


In  order  that  the  transformation  effected  by  the  Byzantine  archi- 
tects may  lie  better  understood,  the  reader  is  referred  to  Big.  96.  At 
A is  traced  the  section  of  one  of  those  grand  Roman  rooms  divided 
by  bays,  whose  construction  is  good,  simple,  and  effective.  Now, 
observe,  the  column  B is  out  of  scale  with  the  room,  and  its  full 
entablature  is  a feature  of  undue  prominence,  concealing  by  its  pro- 
jection an  important  part  of  the  arch  above  and  of  the  tympanum  D ; 
notice  also  that,  to  the  spectator  at  H,  the  column  will  be  equal  in 
length  to  the  arc  a b,  the  entablature  to  the  arc  b c,  and  the  half-vault 
to  the  arc  c d ; that  the  length  of  the  arc  c d is  reduced  by  the  im- 
portance given  to  the  points  represented  by  a,  b,  and  c,  and  that  con- 
sequently the  development  of  the  vault,  which  should  be  and  is  the 
most  important  feature  in  the  geometrical  drawing,  loses  much  of 


Fig.  96. 


its  importance  in  perspective.  In  the  proportions  of  a vaulted  room 
it  is  very  essential  that  the  supporting  members  should  not  appear 


446 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


more  important  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  Now,  in  the  example 
presented  here,  it  is  evident  that  this  important  rule  is  disregarded, 
the  arc  a c representing  the  space  occupied  by  the  column  and  en- 
tablature to  the  eye  of  the  observer  at  H,  while  the  arch  above  is 
represented  to  the  eye  only  by  the  small  arc  c cl. 

But  the  Byzantine  artists,  although  they  did  not  essentially  modify 
the  construction  of  this  room,  were  not,  like  the  Romans,  the  slaves 
of  a traditionary  form,  and,  instead  of  a grand  order  with  an  entabla- 
ture, which  really  has  no  significance  in  an  interior,  they  used  a pier, 
as  at  A',  relieved  by  engaged  columns  or  by  colonnettes  in  the  angles, 
without  the  entablature.  In  order  to  develop  the  arch  more  fully, 
they  made  it  more  than  a semicircle,  and,  instead  of  roofing  each  bay 
with  a cross-vault  formed  in  the  Roman  manner  by  the  intersection 
of  two  wagon-vaults  at  right  angles,  they  used  a dome,  the  support- 
ing pendentives  between  the  four  arches  of  the  bay  being  formed  of 
a series  of  superimposed  small  arches,  as  represented  at  A'.  Their 
ornamentation  was  flat  and  delicate  everywhere,  and  so  subordinated 
to  the  structure  as  to  increase  the  apparent  size  of  the  room  ; its  duty 
being  to  decorate  the  principal  lines  and  surfaces  of  the  structure 
rather  than  to  conceal  and  falsify  them  by  the  application  of  extra- 
neous and  arbitrary  forms.  Thus  the  view  is  uninterrupted  by  en- 
tablatures and  merely  ornamental  projections,  the  structure  has  its  full 
value,  and  the  decoration  serves  rather  to  express  than  to  conceal  the 
kind  and  amount  of  work  performed  by  each  member.  The  proper 
proportions  between  the  vault  and  its  supporters  are  restored. 

It  is  well  in  passing  to  glance  for  a moment  at  the  interior  archi- 
tecture of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  to  observe  how  far  from,  the 
pure  and  reasonable  type  supplied  by  the  Byzantine  Greeks  were  the 
threatening  cornices  of  that  period,  with  their  enrichments  of  gigantic 
figures,  vases,  and  garlands. 

But  the  artists  of  Byzantium,  in  endeavoring  to  restore  to  architec- 
ture a greater  delicacy  of  proportions,  did  not  stop  here.  It  would 
seem  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  moment  the  orders  became,  as 
in  Roman  architecture,  mere  decorative  accessories  and  consequently 
no  longer  absolute  but  only  relative  in  their  proportions,  these  propor- 
tions would  at  once  have  become  variable.  But,  like  true  barbarians, 
the  Romans,  in  forcing  the  Greek  orders  into  their  architecture, 
considered  probably  that  they  thus  evinced  their  good  taste  as  ama- 
teurs ; they  imported  these  orders  like  the  latest  fashions,  and  became 


BYZANTINE  TRANSFORMATIONS  OF  THE  ORDERS.  447 


absolute  in  the  form  of  them,  thus  making  themselves  more  Greek 
than  the  Greeks,  just  as  the  modern  architectural  classicists  are  more 
antique  than  the  ancient  themselves. 

To  be  classic,  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word,  that  is,  to 
follow  the  letter  instead  of  the  spirit  of  antiquity,  harmonized  admira- 
bly with  the  idea  of  the  Romans,  who  administered  but  did  not  dis- 
cuss. There  is  room  to  suspect,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  Greeks, 
who  never  imposed  an  absolute  and  official  fashion  in  art,  were  but 
poor  administrators.  The  orders,  therefore,  and  especially  the  richest 
of  the  orders,  the  Corinthian,  were  preserved  as  an  unalterable  law 
by  the  Romans  to  the  very  last  ; but  when  architectural  Rome  at 
length  delivered  itself  up  unconditionally  into  the  hands  of  the 
Greeks,  these  artists,  in  accepting  the  Roman  architecture,  naturally 
received  with  it  the  orders  of  which  they  themselves  had  been  the 
first  to  dictate  the  proportions.  Yet,  the  orders  having,  in  the 
Roman  application,  merely  a decorative  significance,  they  treated 
them  as  such,  and  subjected  them  to  innumerable  transformations, 
or  rather  they  preserved  only  the  column  with  its  capital,  rarely 
using  the  entablature,  which  really  lost  its  logical  significance  when 
the  order  ceased  to  constitute  the  monument  and  when  the  cor- 
nice was  no  longer  the  eaves  of  the  roof  ; and  the  column  itself, 
with  its  capital,  they  varied  in  form  and  proportion,  in  the  true 
Greek  spirit,  to  suit  the  exigencies  of  the  position  to  which  it  was 
applied.  Thus,  if  a capital  was  placed  in  an  interior  at  a great 
height  from  the  eye  when  compared  to  the  distance  from  which  it 
could  be  viewed  horizontally,  they  either,  as  in  G (Fig.  96),  made  it 
flat  and  projecting, . so  that  it  might  have  full  value  as  seen  from 
beneath,  or  they  lengthened  it,  as  at  I,  so  that  to  the  beholder  at  0 
both  subtended  equal  arcs  /'  m and  1 m.  Thus  the  Greek  resumed 
his  perfect  freedom  and  with  it  his  spirit  of  reason.  Now  if  the 
Romanesque  architects  of  the  Middle  Ages  sometimes  appeared  to  be 
ignorant  of  these  new  principles  of  proportions,  their  lay  successors 
in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  in  France  put  them  in  practice 
with  a geometrical  rigor  interesting  to  observe. 

The  Roman  system  of  proportions,  then,  was  overturned  by  the 
Greeks  themselves  the  moment  they  were  in  a position  to  follow  their 
instincts  and  once  more  have  an  art  of  their  own.  The  time  when 
the  largest  monuments  did  not  in  superficial  dimensions  exceed 
fifteen  hundred  square  feet  had  passed  by  ; the  new  civilizations 


443 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


required  the  occupation  of  enormous  surfaces,  and  it  was  found  con- 
venient and  profitable  at  this  new  starting-point  of  architectural  de- 
velopment to  make  use  of  all  that  was  good  and  practical  in  Roman 
work.  These  conditions  were  accepted  by  the  last  of  the  Greeks, 
and,  in  accepting  them,  they  did  not  go  back  to  their  own  beautiful 
and  venerated  art  of  antiquity  and  endeavor  to  torture  it  so  that  it 
might  tit  these  new  necessities,  but  they  frankly  adopted  another, 
and,  unimpeded  by  prejudices  or  patriotic  traditions,  placed  all  their 
intelligence  and  all  their  logical  spirit  at  the  service  of  the  actual  re- 
quirements of  the  day.  Here  is  an  excellent  example  for  us,  if  we 
only  knew  how  to  profit  by  it.  Rut  what  did  the  Latins  of  the  Re- 
naissance do  when  they  were  placed  in  a somewhat  similar  position  ? 
They  immediately  availed  themselves,  not  of  Roman  art  reformed 
by  the  Byzantine  Greeks,  but  of  Roman  art  deformed  by  a sort  of 
administrative  regimen,  although  redeemed  somewhat  by  the  delicate 
handiwork  of  the  exotic  Greeks.  But  as  for  the  Italians,  wavering, 
as  they  had  been,  from  the  fourth  to  the  fourteenth  century,  between 
Byzantine  and  German  influences,  using  forms  of  whose  origins  and 
principles  they  were  ignorant,  when  at  length  they  were  prepared  for 
a fundamental  reform  in  architecture  they  had  no  system  of  their  own 
to  fall  back  upon  and  develop  according  to  the  new  light  around 
them,  and  so,  naturally,  they  had  recourse  to  the  old  official  art  of 
the  empire.  They  lost  nothing  by  this  change  from  their  previous 
indecision.  With  France,  on  the  other  hand,  the  situation  was  very 
different  ; her  Latinitv  had  ever  been  more  theoretical  than  practical, 
and,  in  the  midst  of  the  moral  revolution  of  the  Renaissance,  she  had 
an  art  of  her  own,  developed  out  of  her  own  resources  to  meet  her 
own  needs  according  to  her  own  spirit,  an  art  full  of  capacity  for 
new  expression,  full  of  the  elements  of  life  ; and  yet,  when  the  epoch 
of  active  reform  came,  she  rejected  this  entirely,  and  betook  herself 
to  Italian  copies  of  a degraded  art,  which  the  Greeks,  whom  we  still 
pretend  to  admire  so  much,  had  ignoininiously  thrown  aside  at  the 
first  opportunity  ! While  waiting  for  three  centuries  in  vain  for  an 
explanation  of  these  inconsistencies,  we  have  been  obliged  in  France 
to  submit  to  a tenacious  and  jealous  official  routine,  based  upon  these 
very  inconsistencies,  and  pushing  their  results  to  the  last  extremities 
of  a misunderstood  classical  ism. 

But  even  at  Byzantium  the  Greek  spirit  was  not  entirely  free  from 
the  interference  of  barbarous  power;  that  active  intelligence,  enthu- 


INTRODUCTION  OP  PENDENTIVES. 


449 


siastic  for  intelligent  reform,  was  compelled  once  more  to  submit  to 
the  relentless  hand  of  political  organization  ; again  it  was  fated  that 
the  formula  should  triumph  over  the  spirit,  and  by  an  apparent  return 
towards  one  of  the  forms  admitted  by  Greek  genius,  to  stifle  that 
breath,  which,  transient  as  it  was,  served  nevertheless  to  inspire  the 
Romanesque  architecture  of  the  West. 

At  Rome,  in  the  name  of  the  Greeks,  the  free  advance  of  architec- 
ture had  been  impeded,  the  progress  of  which  they  had  been  the 
apostles  had  been  stopped,  and,  in  their  name,  style  had  been  petrified 
in  a law.  Even  at  Byzantium  they  were  equally  misunderstood,  and, 
after  their  first  effort  to  harmonize  form  with  structure,  an  effectual 
stop  was  put  to  their  work,  when  the  Nestorians,  who  were  the  most 
enlightened  and  progressive  among  them,  were  exiled.  Far  from  the 
capital  of  the  Eastern  Empire  these  exiles  laid  the  foundations  of  an 
art  more  rational  even  than  that  of  Byzantium  ; and  yet,  while  solici- 
tous for  the  more  complete  development  of  their  own  art,  they  did 
not,  like  modern  colonists,  sacrifice  to  it  those  which  were  indigenous 
to  the  country,  and  which  had  been  naturally  developed  out  of  local 
necessities  and  customs. 

The  ancient  Greeks  of  Attica  never  admitted  the  vault  into  their 
constructions  ; but,  after  having  been  the  submissive  artisans  of  the 
Romans  for  several  centuries,  they  became  familiar  with  it,  although 
they  had  but  little  if  any  influence  over  its  form  or  principles,  for 
this  was  a feature  of  which  the  Romans  were  peculiarly  jealous  ; it 
was  a part  of  their  system  which  the  Greeks,  as  men  of  taste,  were 
regarded  as  good  enough  to  decorate,  but  not  to  modify  in  any  of 
its  essentials.  But  at  Byzantium,  and  in  the  Roman  Oriental  monu- 
ments, they  were  suffered  to  make  one  innovation,  — to  introduce 
pendentives  into  the  Roman  system  of  vaulting.  This,  it  is  true, 
was  an  important  modification  and  a very  natural  deduction  from  the 
intersection  of  wagon-vaults  with  hemispherical  vaults,  — a deduc- 
tion, moreover,  to  whose  development,  through  Greek  genius,  the 
atmosphere  of  Byzantium  seemed  better  fitted  than  that  of  Rome  A 
but  the  Greeks  still  retained  the  semicircular  arch,  which  in  their 
hands  continued  to  be  the  generator  of  wagon  and  cross  vaulting, 
and  of  the  cupola. 

* This  deduction  of  the  pendentives  from  the  intersection  of  hemispherical  and  wagon  vaults 
is  so  natural,  that  it  seems  strange  not  to  find  the  pendentive  in  any  known  Boman  structure 
before  St.  Sophia  at  Constantinople.  It  is  therefore  allowable  to  attribute  this  innovation,  or 
rather  this  deduction  of  a consequence  so  logical,  to  the  Greek  artists  of  Byzantium. 

29 


450 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Neither  of  the  three  triangles  which  we  have  described  above,  and 
referred  to  as  generators  of  proportions  among  the  Greeks,  can  be 
applied  to  the  formation  of  the  round  arch,  as  the  angle  at  the  apex 
in  each  case  is  less  than  90°.  If,  for  instance,  it  is  proposed  to  make 
the  base  A B (Fig.  97)  of  the  Egyptian  triangle  ecpial  to  the  diameter 
of  an  arch  at  its  point  of  springing,  a round  arch  described  on  this 
base  will  not  touch  the  apex  C,  the  radius  being  equal  to  two  parts 
and  the  height  C D to  two  and  a half  ; but,  in  order  that  the  apex  C 
may  coincide  with  the  key  of  the  arch,  we  must  take  the  points  where 
the  perpendiculars  dropped  from  the  centres  of  the  two  sides  of  the 
triangle  intersect  the  base,  and  from  these  points  as  centres  describe 
the  arcs  A C and  B C,  thus  producing  that  broken  curve  which,  in 
modern  language,  is  known  as  the  ogive*  or  pointed  arch. 

It  is  certain  that  this  arch  was  in  common  use  among  the  schools 
which  issued  from  the  Byzantine  stock  after  the  sixth  century,  and 
we  know  that  it  was  made  the  point  of  departure  for  an  entirely 
new  system  of  construction  by  the  offshoot  in  France  in  the  twelfth 
century. 

Fig.  97. 


It  is  interesting  here  to  remark  that  the  genius  of  the  antique 
Greeks  attained  relative  perfection  in  art  only  by  a long  series  of 
tentative  processes  all  tending  to  the  same  end.  They  reached  the 
purity  of  the  Parthenon  only  by  induction  through  the  successive 
ameliorations  of  a great  many  experiments  in  the  Doric  order.  From 
the  great  temple  of  Selinus  to  the  Parthenon  there  is  an  insensible 
gradation,  but  in  all  the  intermediate  stages  we  have  always  the  same 
order;  the  order  had  been  formed;  nothing  essential  was  added  to 
or  subtracted  from  it;  but  the  ultimate  perfection  of  proportions  was 


* See  article  Ogive,  in  the  “ Diet,  raisonné  de  l’arch.  franç.” 


GREEK  INFLUENCE  ON  ORIENTAL  ARCHITECTURE.  451 


the  result  of  a long  series  of  practical  observations  and  trials  on  the 
same  given  theme,  following  always  a logical  method  without  devia- 
tions or  hesitations.  In  the  same  manner  the  scattered  fragments  of 
the  Greek  school,  although  intermingled  with  Roman  traditions  and 
entangled  among  Asiatic  influences,  still  retained  enough  of  that  del- 
icate and  well-studied  sentiment  of  proportions,  which  had  rendered 
the  Greek  art  of  antiquity  so  illustrious,  to  purify  every  architectural 
work  they  participated  in,  after  the  establishment  of  the  Eastern 
Empire  and  when  the  internal  dissensions  of  that  empire  had  ceased 
to  disturb  the  peaceful  development  of  the  arts.  And  it  is  worthy 
of  remark  also,  that  all  the  arts  which  arose  in  the  East  and  in  Egypt 
after  this  epoch,  and  in  which  we  can  detect  the  presence  of  this 
precious  Greek  vein,  were  developed  and  perfected,  not  by  rejecting 
the  local  arts,  but  by  receiving  and  working  them  up  to  a higher 
standard. 

Even  while  under  the  control  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  Greek 
artists  often  succeeded  in  abandoning  the  illogical  mixture  of  the 
lintel  and  arch  in  the  same  architectural  composition,  and  sometimes 
even  sprung  the  round  Roman  arch  with  its  concentric  mouldings 
directly  from  the  column  ; * thus,  even  at  that  early  day,  making  a 
practical  use  of  the  projection  of  the  capital  to  receive  the  archive! t. 
Although  the  slender  Corinthian  column  seemed  crushed  under  the 
weight  of  the  heavy  round  arch  thus  imposed  on  it,  the  novelty  of 
the  idea  and  the  evident  reasonableness  of  it  justified  the  inconsis- 
tency for  the  time.  We  must  not  forget,  too,  that  Greek  artists, 
working  for  masters  as  barbarous  as  they  were  magnificent,  had  no 
leisure  to  seek  for  extreme  refinement  of  proportions.  If  such  re- 
searches would  perhaps  have  had  some  success  under  Hadrian,  under 
Diocletian  they  would  have  been  mere  lost  time. 

But  after  the  introduction  of  Islamism  into  history,  the  scattered 
followers  of  the  Greek  school  often  found  themselves  among  barbari- 
ans, who,  in  the  absence  of  any  artistic  taste  or  preference,  left  them 
a greater  liberty  of  design  ; under  these  circumstances,  the  Greek 
enthusiastically  resumed  his  studies  of  form  and  proportion,  experi- 
mented with  the  arch  and  column,  and  sought  for  other  curves  than 
the  semicircle.  From  these  bold  but  intelligent  experiments  resulted 
many  architectural  combinations  singularly  beautiful  both  in  sweep 
of  line  and  harmony  of  proportions. 


* See  Sixtli  Discourse,  Fi; 


452 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Thus,  in  the  twenty-first  year  of  the  Hegira  (a.  d.  G41),  the  mosque 
of  Amron  was  built  at  Cairo.  It  was  this  Amron  who,  at  the  in- 
stance of  John  Philopon,  the  grammarian,  demanded  of  Omar  the 
preservation  of  the  precious  library  of  Alexandria,  after  the  capture 
of  that  city.  The  reply  of  the  caliph  is  familiar  to  all  : “ The  books 
of  which  you  speak  either  do  or  do  not  agree  with  that  which  is 
written  in  the  book  of  God.  If  they  do  agree  with  it,  then  the 
Koran  is  sufficient  and  these  books  are  useless.  If  they  do  not  agree, 
they  certainly  should  be  destroyed.”  The  books  were  burned.  Now 
no  one  can  suppose  that  this  Omar  had  architects  with  him,  and  we 
know  that  there  were  many  Greek  refugee  artists  in  Egypt.  The 

Fig.  98. 


immense  porticos  built  around  the  court  of  this  mosque  are  full  ot 
the  Byzantine  Greek  spirit.  Fig.  98  presents  two  bays  ot  this  por- 
tico. We  see  here  that  the  Greek  architects  made  use  of  columns 
taken  from  buildings  erected  under  the  empire,  and  raised  on  their 
capitals  arches  of  a new  and  very  elegant  form  and  of  a sweep  of 


THE  ARCHITECTURE  OE  THE  CALIPHS. 


453 


line  indicating  a very  delicate  feeling  for  proportions.  All  travellers 
who  have  visited  this  mosque  agree  in  their  testimony  that  the  effect 
of  these  bays  is  striking  in  the  highest  degree,  and  that  they  have 
never  been  surpassed  in  nobility  of  proportions  or  elegance  of  aspect. 
They  were  described  thus  : — 

The  base  A B of  the  Egyptian  triangle  A B C is  the  level  of  the 
centres  of  the  arches,  which  are  traced  in  the  manner  indicated  in 
Big.  97.  The  point  C being  taken  as  the  summit  of  an  equilateral 
triangle  DEC,  the  base  of  this  triangle  gives  the  level  of  the  tops 
of  the  capitals.  Thus  the  former  triangle  generates  the  arch  proper, 
and  the  latter  the  position  of  the  arch  form  relative  to  the  columns. 
In  order  to  avoid  the  weak  effect  of  dropping  a vertical  line  B A from 
the  starting-point  of  the  curve  A C on  to  the  capital,  the  line  of  the 
arc  is  continued  below  the  level  A B to  the  point  G,  thus  obtaining, 
above  the  block  of  masonry  surmounting  the  capital,  a striking  point 
of  departure  which  practically  gives  a peculiar  firmness  to  the  con- 
struction of  the  arcade.  In  this  invention  we  behold  the  true  Greek 
artist,  adorning  the  triumph  of  the  new  conquerors  with  the  remains 
of  monuments  which  he  himself  had  built  for  his  former  masters, 
and  still  preserving  enough  activity  and  freshness  of  genius,  although 
that  genius  had  been  so  long  crushed  and  humiliated  by  oppression, 
to  set  about  perfecting  the  new  art  which  fortune  had  placed  in  his 
hands. 

Most  of  the  Nestorians,  when  banished  from  Byzantium,  in  the 
fifth  century,  emigrated  to  Persia,  where  they  found  an  indigenous 
art  languishing  on  its  own  sod  ; mingling  with  this  local  art  the  tra- 
ditions of  the  Roman  structure,  they  soon  created  a new  style  ex- 
pressed in  monuments  of  extreme  elegance  and  of  carefully  studied 
proportions.  These  Nestorians  were  the  only  people  who  could  have 
afforded  an  artistic  element  to  those  nomadic  tribes  which  followed 
Mahomet  when  he  contemplated  the  conquest  of  all  the  East.  The 
Semitic  races,  the  Arabs,  had  no  aptitude  for  the  arts  ; and  the  archi- 
tecture which  is  conventionally  called  Arabic  is  in  fact  only  an  off- 
shoot from  that  Persian  architecture  which  had  been  modified,  as  we 
have  seen,  by  the  Nestorian  Greeks.  This  last  reflection  of  Greek 
genius  has  hardly  yet  ceased  to  be  brilliant. 

As  we  have  already  intimated,  the  genius  of  the  Greeks  was  not 
inventive  ; in  the  domain  of  the  intellect,  it  arranged,  established  rela- 
tions, deduced  consequences,  and  pushed  the  art  of  reason  to  the  last 


454 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


limits  ; in  material  affairs,  its  peculiarity  consisted  in  conferring  upon 
the  form  which  fell  under  its  power  the  truest  and  most  beautiful 
expression  of  which  it  was  capable;  without  changing  the  principles 
of  that  form,  it  made  it  flexible  to  all  the  uses  of  art  ; it  never  created 
monsters  ; the  most  abstract  products  of  its  imaginative  activity  were 
embodied  with  a harmony  so  exact  and  well  calculated  as  to  give  them 
the  appearance  of  a natural  growth.  Even  in  mathematical  studies, 
so  much  cultivated  by  the  Greeks  of  the  Lower  Empire,  they  merely 
took  up  and  deduced  further  results  from  the  already  extensive  re- 
searches of  their  predecessors.  The  religious  belief  of  the  new  mas- 
ters of  the  East  forbade  all  imitation  of  organic  nature  in  the  art 
which  they  allowed  the  Nestorians  to  practise  for  them  ; and  these 
Greek  artists,  who,  like  their  ancestors,  found  themselves  the  ser- 
vants of  barbaric  conquerors,  threw  themselves  resolutely  into  the 
only  path  which  was  open  to  their  genius.  Geometry  became  the 
principle,  not  only  of  all  form,  but  of  all  ornament.  Architecture 
was  suddenly  denuded  of  the  richest  features  which  had  distin- 
guished it  in  antiquity  ; figures,  statuary,  and  all  the  inexhaustible 
wealth  of  floral  design  disappeared  from  Oriental  art.  The  square 
and  compass  became  the  masters  ; and  yet,  even  with  these  resources 
apparently  so  poor  and  unpromising,  under  these  conditions  so  nar- 
rowing in  their  exactions,  the  artists  whom  Ave  call  Arabs  succeeded 
in  creating  marvels  of  architectural  beauty.  It  is  easy  to  conceive 
how  proportion  then  became  one  of  the  most  efficacious  means  ol 
procuring  elegance  and  beauty  of  form.  Indeed,  in  this  architecture 
of  the  caliphs,  proportion  Avas  everything,  for  no  device  Avas  admitted 
to  conceal  or  modify  its  defects  ; ornamentation  Avas  used  to  obtain 
harmony,  but  its  only  value  Avas  in  the  mass  : it  Avas  like  embroidery 
upon  stuffs,  it  charmed  Avithout  engrossing  the  mind. 

The  destiny  of  Greek  genius  in  the  history  of  art  Avas  very  singu- 
lar ; although  almost  always  in  a state  of  servitude  to  foreign  power, 
it  still  maintained  its  brilliant  vitality,  and  had  at  its  command 
resources  to  satisfy  the  most  various  tastes  ; inspired  by  an  ideal  of 
intellectual  perfection,  those  marvellous  Avorkmen  could  be  dismayed 
by  no  problem,  hoAvever  novel  in  its  conditions  ; always  investigat- 
ing, they  abvays  found  ; although  ahvays  slaves,  their  intelligence 
ruled  their  masters  and  shaped  them  for  transmission  to  posterity. 
They  Avere  the  preceptors  alike  of  the  Romans  and  of  the  barbaric 
hordes  of  Arabia,  and  the  last  effort  of  their  genius  exerted  an 


ABANDONMENT  OE  THE  ORDERS  BY  TIIE  GREEKS.  455 


influence  which  was  felt  in  the  furthest  borders  of  the  \Vest,  and 
bore  fruit  there  even  in  the  fifteenth  century. 

Hitherto  we  have,  considered  proportion  absolutely,  without  regard 
to  the  system  of  construction  or  to  the  practical  objects  which  build- 
ings are  to  satisfy  ; we  have  treated  only  of  the  general  side  of  the 
principles  of  harmony  as  applied  to  architectural  design,  and,  in 
illustration,  have  purposely  selected  monuments  very  different  in 
character  and  epoch.  We  have  thus  been  enabled  to  recognize  the 
existence  of  certain  generic  laws  belonging  to  humanity,  wherever 
and  however  developed.  But  there  are  other  laws  evidently  depend- 
ing upon  such  facts  as  the  nature  of  materials,  workmanship,  man- 
ners and  customs  resulting  from  peculiarities  of  climate,  certain  apti- 
tudes of  races,  wealth  more  or  less  developed,  taste  for  luxury,  local 
necessities,  or  political  condition.  If  we  sometimes  discover  identical 
principles  of  proportion  among  the  antique  Greeks  and  the  mediaeval 
artists,  Ave  shall  quite  as  often  discover  an  apparent  absence  of  any 
analogy  whatever  between  the  Greek  temple  and  the  Gothic  church. 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  a method  based  upon  reason,  be- 
cause it  is  so  based,  must  lead  to  different  results  the  moment  it  is 
applied  to  elements  themselves  opposed.  We  do  not  accuse  a man 
of  contradiction  because  he  complains  of  warmth  in  July  and  of  cold 
in  January  ; the  contrast  of  bis  sensations  under  different  circum- 
stances is  no  argument  against  the  unity  of  his  organization.  But 
when  we  see  men  clothed  with  furs  in  summer  and  with  linen  in 
winter,  wearing  long  garments  at  the  gymnasium  and  short  garments 
at  a funeral  ceremony,  we  are  justified  in  accusing  them  of  foolish  in- 
consistency. As  the  distinction  between  these  general  and  especial 
laws  has  not  for  a long  time  been  recognized  or  understood,  there 
has  resulted  an  inextricable  confusion  in  all  attempts  at  a philosophi- 
cal review  of  the  history  of  architecture.  Some  artists  are  purists  in 
the  antique  and  some  in  the  mediaeval,  and  neither  party  lias  taken 
into  consideration  the  especial  or  local  laws  which  created  and  should 
still  create  distinctions  of  form  and  stvle. 

The  Greeks  reasoned  justly  when  they  adopted  the  perpendicular 
post  or  column  and  the  horizontal  traverse  or  lintel,  and  in  giving  to 
each  of  these  proportions  relative  to  its  function.  The  Romans  rea- 
soned but  poorly  when,  in  applying  the  order  thus  formed  to  their 
vaulted  monuments  as  a mere  accessory,  they  retained  these  relative 


456 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


proportions  absolutely.  But  the  Byzantine  Greeks,  although  they 
admitted  the  principles  of  Roman  structure,  were  very  careful  not 
to  consider  the  order  as  a type  of  fixed  proportions. 

In  the  West,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  column  became  independent 
of  the  order  ; it  was  elongated  or  stunted,  in  accordance  with  the 
function  it  filled  in  the  general  architectural  system  ; it  was  slender 
or  thick,  as  required  by  the  nature  of  the  materials  employed  ; for  it 
is  unreasonable,  all  other  things  being  equal,  to  give  to  a granite  col- 
umn the  same  diameter  as  to  a column  cut  in  a friable  sandstone. 
To  censure  the  proportions  of  the  columns  of  the  nave  of  Notre  Dame 
of  Paris,  because  they  do  not  agree  with  the  acknowledged  proportions 
of  the  Grecian  or  Roman  orders,  betrays  a remarkable  ignorance  of 
the  meaning  of  proportions,  which  are  nothing  more  than  the  proper 
relations  between  the  parts  and  the  whole,  these  relations  being  im- 
posed, not  by  the  parts  on  the  whole,  but  by  the  whole  on  the  parts. 
In  the  Greek  temple  the  part  (that  is,  the  order ) was  in  reality  the 
whole  ; the  proportions  of  the  order  compelled  the  proportions  of  the 
entire  structure  ; but  when  the  order  became  only  a part  of  a general 
composition,  it  lost  its  quality  as  an  order  and  became  a subordinate 
member  ; it  abandoned  the  entablature,  for  example,  and  was  reduced 
to  the  column  alone,  — the  point  of  support.  Presently  the  column 
itself  lost  its  original  proportions,  to  assume  new  ones  relative  to  the 
new  place  or  function  it  tilled,  or  to  the  nature  of  the  material  in 
which  it  Avas  cut  ; its  capital  and  base  submitted  to  similar  variations 
of  height,  projection,  or  strength,  as  required  by  the  general  compo- 
sition of  Avhicli  they  were  component  and  essential  parts.  All  this 
Avas  strictly  logical.  But  it  is  possible  in  the  arts  to  arrive  at  dis- 
pleasing results  even  through  a just  process  of  reasoning,  if  choice  of 
form,  a feeling  for  the  beautiful,  does  not  intervene  as  a corollary  of 
such  reasoning.  Thus  the  Prench  architecture  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury is  a true  principle  forced  to  the  utmost  limits  of  expression  ; but 
that  architecture  is  objectionable,  because  of  the  form  evolved  from 
the  absolute  application  of  this  principle  ; it  passed  into  a state  of 
mere  demonstration,  of  pure  geometry  ; it  was  a given  problem 
solved,  it  Avas  not  a conception  of  ait. 

As  soon  as  the  order  did  not  constitute  the  Avhole  architecture  of 
a building,  the  order  ceased  to  exist,  because  it  no  longer  had  any 
right  to  exist  as  such.  In  the  offshoots  of  Roman  architecture,  re- 
constituted by  the  Greeks  on  neiv  principles,  the  orders  therefore  dis- 


GEOMETRY  IN  EASTERN  AND  WESTERN  ART. 


457 


appeared.  There  is  no  appearance  of  them  either  in  the  architecture 
attributed  to  the  Arabs  or  in  the  western  mediæval  architecture  ; 
these  developments  of  style  must  be  considered  from  an  entirely  differ- 
ent point  of  view,  although,  as  we  have  seen,  there  are  certain  general 
laws  of  proportion  common  to  both  systems.  Geometry  became  their 
sovereign  mistress,  and  it  is  not  strange  that  the  western  artists  from 
the  twelfth  to  the  fifteenth  century  confounded  architecture  and  geom- 
etry under  the  same  personification  of  art.  Yet,  while  the  great  artists 
of  the  East  and  West,  of  the  Greek  schools  of  Alexandria  and  of  the 
lay  schools  of  France,  recognized  geometry  as  an  ever-present  element 
in  the  general  conception  as  well  as  in  the  detail  of  all  their  architec- 
tural works,  they  still  preserved  a sentiment  of  form  so  true,  an  appre- 
ciation of  beauty  so  just,  that,  at  least  to  the  vulgar  eye,  this  senti- 
ment and  this  appreciation  seem  to  have  been  their  supreme  law  ; it 
was  only  in  the  subsequent  degenerate  epochs  that  architecture  was 
suffered  to  betray  the  geometrical  processes  from  which  it  was  evolved. 
This  is  the  point  where  the  peculiar  and  distinctive  genius  of  the  two 
peoples  is  most  evident,  and  where  it  is  most  clear  that  the  western 
artists  never  imitated  those  of  the  East,  although  they  had  drawn 
their  inspiration  from  the  same  source. 

If,  as  we  have  said,  the  Greeks  were  no  inventors,  the  western  men 
were  inventive  to  a remarkable  degree.  The  Arabs,  or,  rather,  the 
Nestorians,  their  masters  in  art,  did  not  change  the  Roman  structure, 
but  contented  themselves  with  modifying  its  envelope  ; the  geometry 
which  they  called  to  their  aid  did  not  lead  them  to  discover  new  sys- 
tems of  construction,  but  simply  inspired  new  curves  for  their  arches, 
and  was  the  generative  element  of  all  composition  of  ornament;  in 
their  hands  it  became  a plaything,  and  occupied  the  eye  with  endless 
and  marvellous  combinations  of  lines.  In  the  West,  on  the  other 
hand,  geometry  at  once  overturned  the  Roman  structure,  which  was 
no  longer  sufficiently  scientific  to  meet  the  new  emergencies  of  archi- 
tecture ; every  day  it  suggested  new  problems  and  laws  of  equilibrium 
until  then  unknown  ; with  an  inflexible  logic,  it  proceeded  from  gen- 
eral  design  to  details,  dictated  form,  imposed  profiles,  and,  in  short, 
developed  its  energy  with  such  rapidity  and  boldness,  that,  in  the  short 
space  of  two  centuries,  there  was  no  room  left  for  the  individuality  of 
the  artist.  It  progressed  like  the  inexorable  laws  of  civilization. 

In  order  that  we  may  comprehend  the  differences  between  these 
two  forms  of  art,  both  of  which  became  the  slaves  of  geometry,  let 


458 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


us  enter  the  Alhambra  and  examine  there  one  of  the  last  buildings 
due  to  what  is  called  Arabic  civilization.  We  perceive  a structure 
concrete,  like  that  of  the  Romans,  with  antique  plans,  brick  Avails, 
masses  maintained  simply  by  the  adherence  of  mortars  ; light  por- 
ticos, whose  delicate  marble  columns  and  spandrels  of  baked  clay 
and  concrete  support  wainscotings  of  wood.  In  all  this  we  see  no 
effort  to  obtain  a structure  other  than  that  which  prevailed  at  Rome 
and  of  which  remains  may  yet  be  seen  in  Pompeii.  But  these  con- 
crete masses  of  clay  and  brick  and  mortar  are  faced  with  stucco,  pre- 
senting to  the  astonished  eye  the  most  intricate  geometrical  decorative 
combinations  which  it  is  possible  to  imagine.  The  men  who  inhab- 
ited these  palaces  — contemplative  spirits,  pursuing  a sort  of  serene 
and  dreamy  fantasy  in  the  midst  of  these  lovely  but  aimless  combina- 
tions of  ornament,  floating  in  a vague  sea  of  indefinite  and  sensuous 
delight  — certainly  had  little  in  common  with  the  restless,  energetic, 
practical,  logical  races  of  the  West.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
enter  the  cathedral  of  Amiens,  or  into  any  of  the  more  finished  edi- 
fices of  the  Middle  Ages  in  the  West,  the  first  impression  is  a senti- 
ment of  unity  ; the  whole  structure  is  comprehended  at  once  ; no 
detail  distracts  the  eye  from  the  general  harmony  ; it  is  grand  : but  if 
we  would  examine  into  the  means  of  execution,  we  are  at  once  amazed 
at  the  quantity  of  geometrical  combinations  which  have  aided  in  the 
conception  of  the  skeleton  of  the  structure. 

In  the  Arabic  monument,  geometry  supplied  the  vestment  ; in  the 
western  mediaeval  structure,  it  gave  the  body.  In  the  Arabic  monu- 
ment, geometry  had  little  part  except  in  the  decoration  ; in  mediaeval 
architecture,  where,  at  least  after  the  thirteenth  century,  all  decora- 
tion was  floral,  geometry  had  ceased  its  work  when  the  building 
began  to  be  ornamented.  We  can,  indeed,  discover  in  monuments 
towards  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century  in  France  some  traces  of  the 
influence  of  geometry  in  certain  decorative  parts,  belonging  to  tradi- 
tions anterior  even  to  the  Roman  epoch. 

Thus,  in  the  angles  of  some  great  capitals  of  the  second  half  of  the 
twelfth  century,  there  is  a kind  of  volute  of  a peculiar  character,  like 
the  massive  curve  of  great  leaves,  curling  inward  at  their  extremi- 
ties.* But,  iu  studying  the  curves  of  these  volutes,  they  seem  to 
have  been  traced  by  a geometrical  process.  Thus  (Fig.  99,  at  A)  the 
eye  of  the  volute  being  at  B,  draw  through  this  point  the  horizontal 


* Choir  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  St.  Julian -le- Pauvre,  the  cathedral  of  Noyon. 


GOTHIC  GEOMETRICAL  VOLUTES. 


459 


line  a b,  the  perpendicular  c d , and  the  ohlirpie  lines  e f and  g h at 
angles  of  forty-live  degrees  ; a being  the  point  of  departure  of  the 
curve,  draw  the  perpendicular  a i to  the  line  e f ; from  the  point  i, 
the  perpendicular  ij  to  the  line  c d ; from  the  pointy,  the  perpen- 
dicular/ k to  the  line  g h ; and  so  on  to  the  eye  B of  the  volute. 
Perpendiculars  dropped  from  the  centres  of  lines  a i and  ij  will  meet 
at  g on  the  line  g h,  the  centre  of  the  arc  a i j ; perpendiculars 
dropped  from  the  centres  of  the  lines  j Jc  and  k l will  meet  at  m on 
the  line  e f the  centre  of  the  arc  j k /,  etc.  Thus  is  obtained  a 

Fig.  99. 


figure  whose  energetic  curve  recalls  certain  volutes  of  primitive  Ionian 
art.  Other  volutes  are  obtained  by  means  of  the  equilateral  triangle 
(see  Fig.  99,  E)  ; EG  H being  this  triangle,  strike  the  arc  F G from 
the  point  II  ; divide  the  side  G II  in  halves,  and  on  the  half  G G' 
construct  the  equilateral  triangle  GIG';  strike  the  arc  G I from  the 
point  G'  ; divide  the  side  I G'  in  halves,  and  on  the  half  I L con- 
struct the  equilateral  triangle  I O L,  striking  the  arc  I 0 from  the 
point  L,  as  a centre;  and  so  on.  The  artists  of  the  twelfth  century 


460 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


obtained  these  geometrical  methods  of  tracing  volutes,  not  from  the 
Romans,  but  from  another  and  much  more  remote  source.  Indeed, 
to  discover  similar  traces,  we  must  penetrate  to  a very  high  Greek 
antiquity,  to  Ionia  especially  ; for,  between  the  ornaments  of  the  end 
of  the  twelfth  century  in  France  and  certain  Greek  monuments  of 
Asia  Minor  there  certainly  exist  some  very  striking  relations.  In  the 
profiles  of  mouldings  too  there  is  a singular  resemblance  ; the  princi- 
ples by  which  they  have  been  formed  are  the  same,  and  the  curves 
sometimes  identical. 

It  needs  no  very  intimate  acquaintance  with  Greek  monuments, 
whether  Ionian  or  Dorian,  to  recognize  that  the  composition  of 
mouldings  was  regarded  by  their  architects  as  one  of  the  essential 
parts  of  art  ; and  that  this  composition  was  not  capricious,  but  in  ac- 
cordance with  strict  reason  and  with  a very  delicate  feeling  for  form. 
All  the  mouldings  of  this  beautiful  architecture  were  caressed,  as  it 
were,  lovingly.  Now,  in  composing  these  mouldings,  there  are  two 
conditions  to  be  observed  : the  function  of  the  moulding  whose  pro- 
file we  are  studying,  and  the  effect  we  desire  it  to  produce  in  its  posi- 
tion. A profile  is  good  only  when  it  answers  to  these  conditions. 
The  substance  in  which  the  profile  is  moulded  or  cut  may  modify  it, 
without  necessarily  changing  these  principles.  Thus,  it  is  natural  to 
give  to  a profile  cut  in  marble  more  delicacy  and  even  meagreness 
than  to  one  formed  out  of  a friable  or  coarser  stone  ; but  such  con- 
siderations affect  only  the  angles,  in  rendering  it  essential  to  give  to 
them  more  or  less  sharpness,  or  the  hollows,  in  requiring  more  or  less 
depth.  In  either  case,  the  principle  remains  the  same.  But  to  give 
to  wooden  mouldings  the  same  character  of  profile  as  to  mouldings  in 
stone  or  marble,  to  interior  mouldings  the  peculiarities  of  exterior 
mouldings,  are  indications  of  extreme  barbarism.  The  mediaeval 
artists  observed  these  laws  in  their  architecture  as  carefully  as  the 
Greeks  themselves.  If  we  may  dare  to  draw  a comparison,  consider- 
ing the  very  small  number  of  Greek  monuments  remaining  for  our 
inspection,  the  mediaeval  builders  pushed  their  observance  of  these 
principles  even  further  than  their  great  prototypes.  In  Greek,  as  in 
mediaeval  architecture,  the  functions  fulfilled  by  mouldings  are  three- 
fold : they  form  a footing,  support  a projection,  and  mark  a height 
or  frame  in  a void.  In  the  first  case,  the  moulding  is  a base  or  a 
plinth  ; in  the  second,  a cornice  ; in  the  third,  a string-course,  a frame 
or  architrave.  A moulding  has  no  reason  outside  of  these  three  con- 


FUNCTION  OF  MOULDINGS. 


401 


ditions,  as  is  proved  in  the  best  mediaeval  as  in  the  best  Greek  work. 
These  functions  being  thus  prescribed,  the  profile  is  reduced  to  three 
primitive  dispositions,  indicated  by  the  three  diagrams  A,  13,  C,  in 
Tig.  100,  which  are  block-forms  required  by  structural  necessity. 
These  block-forms  admitted,  it  remains  to  give  them  the  particular 
expression  proper  for  the  duties  they  are  to  perform  and  the  positions 
they  are  to  occupy.  They  are  useful  features,  and  should  produce  a 
certain  effect  by  reason  of  their  usefulness.  The  cornice  A,  if  it  is 
an  exterior  feature,  must  protect  the  wall  which  it  overhangs,  and  be 

Fig.  100. 


so  contrived  as  to  throw  the  rain-water  far  from  its  surface  ; all  the 
lower  members  of  the  cornice  must  be  cut  in  such  a manner  as  to 
have  the  appearance  of  sufficient  strength  to  sustain  the  burden 
imposed  upon  them.  The  string-course  B/  is  nothing  more  than  a 
cincture  or  band,  indicating  in  the  exterior  either  the  level  of  a floor, 
or  a change  in  the  construction  of  a wall  ; it  is  a projecting  course  of 
masonry,  which  must  seem  strong  enough  to  resist  the  superincum- 
bent pressure  or  to  mark  a separation  with  emphasis.  The  archi- 


4G2 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Fig.  101. 


trave  or  frame-moulding  B panels  a wall-surface  or  defines  and  gives 
value  to  the  boundaries  or  jambs  of  an  aperture.  The  base  or  plinth 


GREEK  CORNICES. 


463 


C sustains  all  the  weight,  gives  the  whole  structure  a footing  on  the 
ground,  and  serves  as  a transition  between  the  horizontal  lines  of  the 
ground  and  the  vertical  lines  of  the  building. 

Let  us  glance  for  a moment  at  some  of  the  profiles  invented  by 
Greek  architects.  Fig.  101  presents  profiles  of  certain  capitals  and 
cornices.  A is  the  profile  of  the  exterior  cornice  of  the  temple  of 
Castor  and  Pollux  at  Agrigentum.  The  under-cutting  c,  beneath  the 
main  crown-moulding  b,  is  to  prevent  the  rain-water  from  running 
down  the  face  of  the  corona  d,  which  is  contrived  to  receive  a broad 
mass  of  light  and  to  act  as  the  main  protection  of  the  wall  from  the 
wash  of  rains.  The  bed-moulds  at  e,  under  the  projection  of  the 
corona , are  accentuated  by  deep  cuttings,  in  order,  by  strongly 
marked  black  horizontal  lines,  to  relieve  the  mass  of  shadow  thrown 
by  the  corona.  The  principal  superior  moulding  ( talon  or  cymatimn ) 
receives  the  light,  falling  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  at  the  point 
y ; and  the  extreme  projection  above  this  moulding  is  emphasized  by 
a delicate  line  of  shadow  at  h,  between  two  lines  of  brilliant  light; 
the  black  line  afforded  by  the  under-cutting  at  c,  like  those  in 
the  bed-moulds,  serves  to  give  life,  transparency,  and  variety  to  the 
shadows  cast  by  the  superimposed  members.  • This  cornice  thus  not 
only  satisfactorily  meets  a practical  necessity,  but  gratifies  the  eye 
with  an  harmonious  and  carefully  studied  effect  of  light  and  shade. 

The  profile  B of  the  capitals  of  the  antes  or  pilasters  in  the  pronaos 
of  the  temple  of  Neptune  at  Pæstum,  as  it  can  receive  no  direct  light, 
is  arranged  to  obtain  effect  only  from  the  reflected  light  thrown  up- 
ward from  the  pavement,  as  indicated  by  the  downward-facing  curve 
of  the  great  moulding  b'  ; the  sharp  internal  angle  e with  its  black 
line  affords  a line  of  demarcation  between  the  two  upper  faces  of  the 
profile.  The  same  remarks  are  true  of  the  profile  C,  which  crowns 
the  architrave  of  the  interior  order. 

The  profile  D of  the  antes  of  the  Propylæa  of  Eleusis  is  also  dis- 
posed with  a view  to  receiving  reflected  light  only.  Observe  how 
the  upper  fillet  j falls  back  in  order  to  emphasize  the  inclination  of 
the  fillet  / and  give  greater  value  to  the  line  of  reflected  light  it  re- 
ceives, and  that  the  surface  i has  also  an  inclination  to  receive  light 
from  below  ; observe,  too,  that  the  torus  Ji  is  contrived  by  contrast  of 
form  and  by  position  to  increase  the  vivacity  of  the  projection  of  the 
abacus  above  it,  and  is  undercut  sharply  and  boldly  at  / to  obtain  a 
well-defined  shadow  ; the  gradual  curve  from  the  wall-face  or  shaft 


4C4 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


vi  upward  to  l affords  a transition  between  the  perpendicular  and 
horizontal  members  by  a gradual  increase  in  the  quantity  of  reflected 
light  as  it  approaches  the  torus,  and  the  movement  of  this  curve  is 
accentuated  by  successive  horizontal  lines  of  light  and  shade  obtained 
by  a sort  of  serrated  outline. 

The  section  E of  a fragment  of  frieze  belonging  to  the  temple  of 
Ceres  at  Eleusis  also  shows  with  what  delicacy  the  Greeks  made  use 
of  reflected  light  in  their  mouldings. 

F and  G G'  are  exterior  profiles  from  Pompeii.  The  section  E is 
entirely  plunged  in  shade,  with  the  exception  of  the  border  n of  the 
upper  cymatium  ; but  this  mass  of  shadow  is  relieved  by  the  strong 
reflected  light  on  the  fillet  p contrasted  with  the  deep  line  of  unre- 
lieved shadow  supplied  by  the  bold  under-cutting  o.  The  same  re- 
marks are  true,  even  in  a more  marked  degree,  of  the  profile  G G' 
from  the  triangular  forum.*' 

If  the  profiles  of  Roman  cornices  recall  these  in  their  mass,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  in  detail  they  exhibit  neither  the  refinement 
nor  the  nice  observation  of  effects  which  distinguish  their  Greek 
prototypes  ; the  Roman  architect  abandoned  those  undercuttings  by 
which  the  Greek  so  delicately  emphasized  his  lines  of  light  and  gave 
transparency  to  his  masses  of  shadows  ; the  curves  were  badly  studied 
and  conventional,  the  general  outlines  were  formalized  and  indecisive, 
and  profiles  were  used  indiscriminately  for  the  interior  and  exterior. 
It  is  easy,  on  the  other  hand,  to  see  that  the  lay  architects  of  the 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  in  France  were  influenced,  in  the 
composition  of  profiles,  by  the  same  principles  as  the  Greeks.  An 
examination  of  Eig.  102  will  afford  the  proof  of  this  fact.  We  find 
here  the  same  delicate  study  of  curves,  the  same  fine  feeling  for  con- 
trasts, the  same  means  used  to  obtain  certain  effects  of  lights,  shades, 
and  reflections,  the  same  regard  for  the  expression  of  the  function  of 
the  mouldings.  There  is  nothing  here  borrowed  from  Roman  art, 
more  especially  from  that  Gallo-Roman  art  which,  in  respect  to  the 
execution  of  all  architectural  details,  had  become  degraded  indeed. f 

* See  the  work  of  M.  Uchard  published  in  the  “ Kevue  d’ Architecture  ” of  M.  Daly,  Vol. 
XVIII.  PI.  49  and  50. 

+ The  profiles  A date  from  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century,  and  belong  to  the  interior 
of  the  nave  of  the  church  of  Vézelay  (cornices  or  abaci  of  interior  capitals).  The  profiles  B 
are  exterior,  and  are  from  the  old  tower  of  Notre  Dame  of  Chartres  (about  1140).  The  profile 
C crowns  the  exterior  of  the  choir  aisles  of  the  cathedral  of  Paris  (1165).  The  exterior  profiles 
D are  from  the  church  of  Montréale  (about  1180)  ; the  profile  E is  from  a balustrade  in  the  in- 
terior of  the  church  of  Vézelay  (about  1190)  ; F is  from  the  porch  (about  1135),  and  G and  H 
are  also  exterior  profiles  from  the  same  church  and  belong  to  about  1235. 


GOTHIC  CORNICES. 


4G5 


Fig.  102. 


In  these  examples,  the  larmiers , or  drip-mouldings,  a , the  hollow 
under-cuttings  b,  the  cymatia  c and  d,  the  tori  e,  the  cavettos  f all 
30 


46G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


Fig.  103. 


~ o i ■/ 

were  to  occupy  and  tlie  function  they  were  to  fulfil  ; hut,  as  the 


COMPARISON  OF  GREEK  AND  GOTHIC  BASES. 


407 


atmosphere  is  less  transparent  in  the  climate  of  Western  Europe  than 
in  that  of  Greece  and  Italy,  clearness  of  reflected  lights  were  not 
depended  on  to  the  same  extent  in  studying  for  effects  ; the  profiles 
were  fuller,  and  the  black  lines,  obtained  by  deep  channels  and  under- 
cuttings, were  more  frequently  used  to  define,  separate,  and  emphasize 
the  projections.  As  the  mediæval  monuments  were  much  more  ex- 
tensive than  those  of  Greece,  it  was  also  necessary,  in  composing  the 
mouldings,  to  take  into  consideration  their  greater  distance  from  the 
eye. 

As  regards  bases,  the  analogy  is  still  more  striking.  Eig.  103 
contains  some  profiles  of  Greek  bases.*  They  were  all  evidently 
drawn  to  be  viewed  from  above.  They  rested  upon  the  ground  and 
conducted  the  eye  from  the  vertical  to  the  horizontal  planes.  They 
were  accentuated  only  by  the  delicate  scotias  or  hollows  a,  or  by 
the  black  lines  obtained  by  deep  channels  to  define  the  tori.  Ob- 
serve how  in  the  profile  E the  upper  torus  is  flattened  on  its  lower 
section  in  order  to  disengage  the  fillet  b and  render  it  visible.  No- 
tice especially,  also,  the  sweep  of  the  lower  torus  c of  the  profile  G, 
which  is  given  on  a larger  scale  at  c. 

Let  us  consider  now  some  profiles  of  French  bases  belonging  to 
the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  (Eig.  104)  ; but  first  let  us  repre- 
sent at  A the  torus  or  echinus  of  a Doric  capital  inverted,  selecting 
one  from  the  temple  of  Metapontis.  Now  the  lower  torus  of  the 
bases  13  of  the  choir-columns  in  the  cathedral  of  Paris  reproduces 
exactly  the  sweep  of  this  echinus,  which  is  a curve  formed  of  three 
arcs  of  a circle.  The  resemblance  is  even  carried  so  far  as  to  repeat 
at.  a part  of  the  double  fillet  a in  the  Greek  example.  The  upper 
torus  of  the  base  13  is  slightly  flattened  on  its  upper  surface  as  in 
most  of  the  Greek  profiles  (Eig.  103).  The  profiles  C O',  which 
belong  to  the  columns  of  the  old  tower  of  Notre  Dame  of  Chartres, 
certainly  recall  very  vividly  the  Greek  profiles  B E in  Eig.  103. 
The  profile  G belongs  to  one  of  the  bases  of  the  choir-columns  of 
the  abbey  church  of  Vezelay.f  The  profiles  at  E plainly  reproduce 
the  Greek  example  at  13  in  Eig.  103.  Like  the  Greeks,  these  lay 
artists  of  the  twelfth  century  considered  that  the  tori  of  the  bases 

* A,  from  the  antæ  of  the  temple  of  Diana  and  of  the  Propylæa  of  Eleusis  ; B,  from  the  ante 
of  the  Propylæa  of  Eleusis  ; C,  from  the  temple  of  Winged  Victory  at  Athens  ; D,  from  the 
temple  of  Apollo  at  Bassæ  ; E and  G from  the  triangular  forum  of  Pompeii  ; F,  from  Pompeii. 

+ See  in  the  “Diet,  raisonné  de  l’arch.  franç.,  du  XI0  au  XV0  siècle,”  articles  Ba.se  and 
Griffe. 


408 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


should  never  be  described  by  a single  sweep  of  the  compass,  but 
that  they  should  be  so  designed  as  to  grasp  the  ground,  as  it  were, 
firmly,  and  be  relieved  by  the  graduated  shadows  of  a well-accen- 
tuated seotia. 

In  Pig.  103  we  have  given  at  C the  profile  of  an  Ionic  base  from 
the  temple  of  the  Winged  Victory  at  Athens,  the  great  torus  of  which 
is  channelled  horizontally  ; the  same  peculiarity  occurs  in  the  neigh- 


Fig.  104. 


boring  Pandroseum  and  in  other  Ionic  buildings  of  the  time  of 
Pericles.  It  is  also  not  unfrequent  in  French  monuments  of  the 
twelfth  century,  particularly  in  the  Southern  provinces.  Thus,  Fig. 
105  presents  at  A the  profile  of  the  base  of  a column  in  the  town  hall 
of  Saint-Antonin  (Tarn-et-Garonne),  the  upper  torus  being  channelled 
horizontally,  while  it  is  evident  that  all  the  other  mouldings  of  this 


COMPARISON  OP  GREEK  AND  GOTHIC  SCULPTURE.  469 


base  have  a very  marked  Greek  character,  as  is  the  case  also  with  the 
base  B from  the  church  of  Déols  (Châteauroux)  and  with  many 
other  examples  of  the  twelfth  century  in  that  province.  The  shafts 
of  the  columns  of  Berry  belonging  to  the  same  epoch  are  banded 
Avith  delicate  horizontal  lines  as  indicated  nt  l>,  — a peculiar  treatment 
which  occurs  in  shafts  of  the  epoch  of  the  Sassanides  and  even  much 
later,  as  in  the  Alhambra  at  Grenada.  It  is  Avell  to  observe  here, 
Avhile  speaking  of  bases,  that  the  artists  of  the  twelfth  century,  when 
they  rested  circular  tori  upon  square  plinths,  took  care  to  occupy 
the  angles  of  the  latter  with  claAvs  ( griffes ) to  give  greater  apparent 
strength  to  the  footing  and  fill  out  the  profile.  This  precaution  the 

Fig.  105. 


Romans  never  observed  ; it  a vas  a refinement  peculiar  to  Greek  and 
mediaeval  genius.  I am  aware  that  to  associate  such  names  as  Athens 
and  Saint-Antonin,  Pompeii  and  Déols,  as  I have  done,  Avili  sound 
strangely  in  some  ears  ; but  AArhat  shall  I do  ? the  monuments  are 
there,  and  if  I have  misrepresented  them  they  Avili  bear  witness 
against  me. 

But  the  remarkable  analogies  betAveen  Greek  art  and  the  mediaeval 
art  of  Prance  do  not  cease  with  the  profiles  ; they  exist  also  in  the 
sculpture.  Pig.  106,  for  instance,  exhibits  a capital  in  the  chapter- 
room  of  the  church  of  Vézelay  (about  1160);  this  capital  is  in  style 


470 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


much  more  Greek  than  Roman,  especially  the  Roman  which  was 
common  in  Gaul.*  If  a pupil  of  the  school  of  Fine  Arts  should  dis- 
cover this  capital  in  Macedonia  or  on  the  borders  of  the  Bosphorus, 
the  Academy  would  certainly  pronounce  it  very  beautiful;  but  it  has 
the  misfortune  to  be  in  its  proper  place  supporting  an  undeniable 
and  inviolate  vault  of  the  twelfth  century  only  one  hundred  and  ten 
miles  from  Paris. 

Doubtless  the  artists  who  designed  these  profiles  and  carved  these 
capitals,  in  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  century  in  France,  were  hardly 
familiar  with  the  monuments  of  Attica,  Ionia,  Magna  Græcia,  or  Asia 
Minor  ; they  were  no  archaeologists,  but  they  had  relations  of  race 
with  the  old  civilizations  of  the  western  parts  of  the  East,  and  like 
them  they  reasoned,  loved  the  beautiful,  profited  by  traditions,  and 
progressed.  They  adandoned  the  Roman  structure,  because  it  no 
longer  agreed  with  the  manners  and  customs  of  modern  times,  and 
formed  a structure  better  suited  to  their  needs,  their  materials,  and 
their  social  state,  and,  simply  by  reasoning  as  the  Greeks  reasoned 
(for  there  are  not  two  ways  of  reasoning  on  such  a subject),  they  pres- 
ently, in  the  execution  of  details,  reached  results  analogous  to  those 
obtained  by  the  Greeks  of  antiquity.  Even  admitting  that  the  sculp- 
ture to  which  we  have  referred  is  due  to  an  influence  imported  from 
the  East,  we  should  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  the  East  was  filled 
with  sculpture  of  every  kind,  especially  with  the  debased  sculpture  of 
the  latter  days  of  the  empire,  and  at  least  be  just  enough  to  the 
French  mediaeval  artists  to  acknowledge  that,  in  choosing  their 
models,  they  chose  those  which  most  nearly  approached  the  Greek 
sentiment.  But,  as  I have  lately  said,  in  the  first  part  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  French  architecture  abandoned  these  imported  meth- 
ods of  sculpture  and  frankly  adopted  the  local  flora,  thus  once  more 
approaching  the  Greek  prototype,  not  by  imitating  a Greek  model, 
but  by  making  use  of  a Greek  principle,  namely,  the  incessant  ap- 
plication of  new  elements. 

In  the  state  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  into  which  the  art  of  architec- 
ture has  fallen  in  the  present  epoch,  in  the  midst  of  so  many  conflict- 
ing doctrines  all  equally  unreasonable,  it  becomes  especially  necessary 
to  bring  to  bear  upon  the  subject  an  attentive  criticism,  and  to  dis- 

* If  the  reader  will  turn  to  Fig.  35,  in  the  Sixth  Discourse,  he  will  be  struck  by  the  intimate 
relations  evidently  existing  between  the  sculpture  of  this  capital  and  that  of  the  frieze  of  the 
Golden  Gate  of  Jerusalem.  Whether  this  frieze  belonged  to  the  time  of  Herod  the  Great  or  to  ( 
that  of  Hadrian,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  it  was  executed  by  Greek  artists. 


Fig.  106. 


SOURCE  OE  A NEW  LIEE  IN  ART. 


471 


cover,  if  possible,  the  nature  of  those  principles  by  virtue  of  which 
the  art  has  been  developed  in  preceding  ages.  The  fair  conclusion 
deduced  from  what  we  have  set  forth  is  that  Greek  and  Roman  art, 
at  bottom,  have  nothing  in  common  ; that  if  Roman  architecture  be- 
longs to  a grand  cosmopolitan  people,  if  it  is  the  fair  expression  of 
that  prodigious  political  civilization,  it  is  not  an  architecture  of  artists, 
but  the  architecture  of  a universal  empire  ; while,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  Greek  architecture  is  indeed  lovely,  and  if  we  really  admire  and 
understand  it  as  we  claim  to,  we  cannot  at  the  same  time  admire 
Roman  architecture  ; to  adopt  both  is  to  embrace  rigor  of  principles 
and  indifference  of  principles,  it  is  to  believe  and  not  to  believe.  We 
may  also  conclude  that  Roman  art  irrevocably  declined,  because  it 
borrowed  forms  from  every  quarter  without  seeking  to  harmonize 
them  with  its  system  of  structure  ; that  Greek  art  has  been,  and  will 
forever  continue  to  be,  an  inexhaustible  source  of  inspiration,  simply 
because  its  vital  principle  consisted  in  the  true  adaptation  of  form  to 
material  and  necessity  ; and,  finally,  that,  as  we  artists  of  the  West 
have  more  natural  sympathy  of  mind  with  the  Greeks  than  with  the 
Romans,  and,  like  the  Greeks,  have  an  ever-present  love  for  truth  at 
the  bottom  of  our  hearts,  the  domination  of  Rome  in  matters  of  art, 
under  which,  by  one  of  those  reactions  so  frequent  in  the  history  of 
the  world,  we  are  now  laboring,  must  be  merely  temporary,  and  we 
must  spring  to  a new  life  in  art  as  soon  as  truth  is  relieved  from  the 
stifling  grasp  of  the  last  barbarian. 


TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


ON  THE  ARCHITECTURE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.'- ON  METHOD. 


nmst  nce(^s  ^)C  confessed  that  modern  architects,  sur- 


rounded  as  they  are  by  prejudices  and  traditions,  and 
embarrassed  by  an  habitual  confusion  in  respect  to 
their  art,  are  neither  inspired  by  original  ideas  nor 
guided  by  definite  and  Avell-understood  principles  ; a 
fact  the  more  plainly  betrayed  the  more  elaborate  and 
complex  are  the  monuments  they  are  called  upon  to  design  and  exe- 
cute. 

The  libraries  of  our  architects  are  fnll  of  works  on  the  history  and 
practice  of  art,  and  abound  with  drawings  and  engravings  ; yet  if,  in 
the  midst  of  this  affluence  of  the  material  elements  of  design,  the 
artist  is  required  to  erect  the  most  modest  structure,  his  mind  is  at 
once  closed  to  the  reception  and  expression  of  new  ideas  for  the  sake 
of  being  correct  in  respect  to  his  imitation  of  old  ones,  and  refuses  to 
draw  any  true  inspiration  from  these  accumulated  but  disordered 
resources.  Evidences  of  nice  appreciation  and  careful  study,  delicate 
and  elegant  execution,  abound  on  all  sides  ; but  indications  of  really 
new  ideas  are  rare  indeed,  and  still  more  rare  the  rational  observa- 
tion of  a principle.  Our  monuments  seem  to  be  bodies  without  souls, 
the  fragments  of  some  departed  civilization,  a language  incomprehen- 
sible even  to  those  who  employ  it.  A thoughtless  veneration  for  a 
certain  class  of  forms  has  taken  the  place  of  originality  of  conception 
and  creative  ideas,  and  our  artists  remind  one  of  those  good  people 
who  believe  that  their  salvation  depends  upon  their  repeating  certain 
Latin  prayers,  which  they  do  not  understand  and  which  they  murder 
without  scruple  ; although  it  may  well  be  doubted  if  our  artists  have 


ARCHITECTURE  OE  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  473 


even  the  virtue  of  faith  in  their  scrupulous  Latinity.  Is  it  surprising 
that  the  public  remains  cold  and  indifferent  in  the  presence  of  works 
thus  void  of  ideas,  and  too  often  of  reason,  and  that  its  appreciation 
is  limited  to  considerations  of  cost  ? “ This  is  very  expensive,  and 

so  it  must  be  beautiful.” 

Must  this  nineteenth  century,  then,  come  to  a close  without  ever 
possessing  an  architecture  of  its  own  ? Is  this  epoch,  so  fertile  in 
discoveries,  so  abounding  in  vital  force,  to  transmit  to  posterity  noth- 
ing better  in  art  than  imitations,  hybrid  works  without  character  and 
impossible  to  class  ? This  sterility  can  hardly  be  one  ot  the  conse- 
quences of  our  social  state,  nor  can  it  be  satisfactorily  accounted  for 
by  any  bias  of  education,  for  no  school  of  art  could  be  powerful 
enough  to  bring  about  such  a result  in  the  midst  of  the  intellectual 
activity  and  enterprise  of  the  time.  Why,  then,  have  we  not  an  archi- 
tecture of  the  nineteenth  century  ? We  are  building  everywhere  and 
a great  deal  ; we  are  lavish  of  our  millions  ; and  yet,  among  all  the 
innumerable  structures  raised  on  every  side,  it  is  very  difficult  to 
point  out  any  distinguished  for  a true  and  really  artistic  application 
of  the  boundless  resources  at  our  disposal. 

Since  the  Trench  Revolution  Europe  has  been  in  a state  of  active 
transition  ; it  has  been  ceaseless  in  investigating  nature  and  history, 
and  has  accumulated  immense  resources  of  material.  Yet  architects 
have  been  unable  to  give  body  and  original  expression  to  these  varied 
elements,  simply  because  they  have  wanted  method.  In  the  arts,  as 
in  the  sciences,  without  method,  our  investigations,  our  discoveries 
and  acquisitions,  are  in  vain  ; with  the  increase  of  our  material  and 
intellectual  wealth,  we  gain  practically  only  embarrassment  and  con- 
fusion ; our  very  abundance  is  a stumbling-block.  The  more  knowl- 
edge we  acquire,  the  greater  the  strength  and  accuracy  of  judgment 
needed  to  render  this  knowledge  practically  available  and  useful,  and 
the  more  necessary  it  is  to  discriminate  and  classify  according  to 
severe  principles. 

But  this  state  of  transition  in  regard  to  art  must,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  be  temporary  ; it  must  tend  towards  some  definite  result  which 
can  only  be  reached  when,  wearied  with  our  profitless  and  unsyste- 
matic gropings  among  a chaos  of  ideas  and  materials,  we  at  length 
seek  to  educe  from  the  chaotic  mass  certain  principles  of  order  and  to 
develop  and  apply  them  by  the  aid  of  sure  and  intelligent  method. 
This  is  the  task  before  us,  this  the  labor  to  which  we  must  devote 


474 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


our  energies  with  fixed  determination,  struggling  against  those  dele- 
terious elements  of  indecision  and  caprice  which,  like  the  miasmas 
which  arise  from  all  matter  in  fermentation,  are  the  natural  results  of 
a state  of  transition. 

The  arts  are  sick  ; notwithstanding  the  energy  of  our  vital  princi- 
ples, architecture  seems  to  he  dying  in  the  very  bosom  of  prosperity, 
dying  of  excess  and  the  results  of  the  debilitating  regime  under 
which  its  growth  has  so  long  been  stunted.  This  malady  is  not  a 
thing  of  to-day  ; its  seeds  were  sown  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
have  been  developing  ever  since  ; they  were  sown  when  architects, 
instead  of  making  form  the  frank  expression  of  the  requirements  they 
were  called  on  to  satisfy,  and  of  the  means  of  construction  at  their  dis- 
posal, began  to  preoccupy  themselves  with  the  idea  of  adopting  cer- 
tain styles,  most  of  which,  after  a very  superficial  study  and  without 
any  effort  at  analysis,  they  borrowed  directly  or  indirectly  from  an- 
cient Rome.  As  soon  as  architecture  thus  lost  the  clew  of  truth,  it 
went  more  and  more  hopelessly  astray,  till  at  length,  lost  in  error,  it 
has  become  merely  eclectic,  and,  observing  effects  alone  in  historical 
architecture,  without  attempting  to  analyze  them  and  ascertain  the 
causes  which  led  to  them,  it  is  now  pseudo-Greek,  now  pseudo- 
Roman,  and  now  pseudo- Gallic  ; it  borrows  inspiration  alike  from  the 
fancies  of  the  age  of  Francis  I.,  from  the  pompous  style  of  Louis 
XIV.,  and  from  the  decadence  of  the  seventeenth  century;  it  has 
become  so  enslaved  to  the  prevailing  fashion,  that  even  in  the  bosom 
of  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  in  those  most  classic  of  all  shades,  we 
have  seen  designs  made  up  of  the  most  fantastic  mixture  of  styles, 
fashions,  epochs,  and  means,  yet  betraying  not  the  slightest  symptom 
of  originality  ; because  real  originality  is  one  of  the  infinite  number 
of  forms  in  which  truth  manifests  itself,  and,  without  truth,  it  is  ficti- 
tious, a mere  caprice.  Notwithstanding  the  efforts  lately  made  to 
associate  so  many  varieties  of  style,  and  to  bring  together  so  many 
conflicting  influences,  notwithstanding  the  capricious  eclecticism  with 
which  the  fancies  of  the  moment  are  satisfied,  the  characteristic 
which  strikes  us  most  in  modern  monuments  is  monotony. 

There  are  two  ways  of  expressing  truth  in  architecture  : it  must 
be  true  according  to  the  programme  of  requirements,  and  true  accord- 
ing to  the  methods  and  means  of  construction.  To  be  true  according 
to  the  programme,  is  to  fulfil  with  scrupulous  exactness  all  the  condi- 
tions imposed  by  necessity  ; to  be  true  according  to  the  methods  and 


THE  UNREASONABLE  IMITATION  OE  STYLES. 


475 


means  of  construction,  is  to  employ  materials  with  a clue  regard  for 
their  qualities  and  capacities.  That  which  is  generally  regarded  as  a 
matter  of  pure  art,  namely,  symmetry,  the  apparent  form,  this  is  quite 
a secondary  consideration. 

When  the  Indians  built  temples  of  stone  in  the  form  of  structures 
of  logs,  when  the  Greeks  of  Asia  Minor,  the  Carians  or  Lycians,  imi- 
tated wooden  tabernacle  work  in  their  monuments  of  marble,  when 
the  Egyptians,  in  building  their  vast  monolithic  temples,  borrowed 
the  form  of  an  ordinary  wall  of  mud  plastered  upon  wattled  reeds, 
they  evinced  a respect  for  the  primitive  arts  which  to  us  is  very  curi- 
ous and  instructive,  but  which  it  would  be  absurd  in  us  to  imitate. 
The  Dorians  and  the  Attic  Greeks  soon  threw  off  these  swaddling- 
clothes  of  their  predecessors  ; and,  as  for  the  Romans,  they  frankly 
built  concrete  monuments,  which  in  form  were  the  absolute  expres- 
sion of  the  construction,  and  which  obtained  all  their  beauty  from  this 
expression  of  truth.  The  Romans  were  no  children,  innocently  hold- 
ing to  a primitive  tradition,  but  they  were  mature  men  who  reasoned. 
The  mediaeval  architects  went  further  even  than  the  Romans  in  this 
respect  ; instead  of  the  concrete  architecture,  the  moulded  hive,  they 
desired  an  architecture  in  which  every  force  and  thrust  should  be  ap- 
parent and  in  which  every  constructive  means  should  give  birth  to  an 
architectural  form  ; they  adopted  the  principle  of  active  resistances 
and  equilibrium  ; in  fact,  they  were  inspired  by  the  great  modern 
philosophic  idea  that  every  individual,  every  work,  and  every  object 
has  a distinct  part  to  play  in  the  grand  harmony  of  the  universe. 
This  progressive,  logical  labor  of  humanity  ought  to  be  continued  to 
the  end.  Why  should  we  abandon  it  ? Why  should  we  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  like  the  Indians  and  Egyptians,  reproduce  the 
styles  of  comparatively  primitive  civilizations  with  material  and  means 
which,  far  from  lending  themselves  readily  to  such  childish  tasks, 
constantly  suggest  new  forms  ? What  theocratic  institution  is  it 
which  constrains  us  to  such  an  abuse  of  common-sense,  to  such  a 
repudiation  of  the  progress  of  former  ages  and  the  genius  of  modern 
society  ? 

The  nineteenth  century,  like  all  epochs  in  history  which  have  been 
fertile  in  great  discoveries  and  morally  or  materially  progressive,  has 
exhibited  remarkable  zeal  in  investigation.  It  has  applied  to  the 
study  of  the  sciences,  philosophy  and  history,  a fine  spirit  of  analysis. 
It  has  elevated  archaeology  to  something  more  than  a mere  specula- 


476 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


live  science,  and  now  pretends  to  deduce  from  it  a practical  knowl- 
edge which  may  be  of  great  benefit  to  the  future.  The  axiom  that 
“ The  youngest  are  the  oldest  ” never  could  have  been  so  justly  ap- 
plied as  to  our  own  generation.  In  the  study  of  natural  phenomena 
and  philosophy,  method  has  already  produced  considerable  results, 
but  as  yet  it  has  never  been  applied  to  archaeology  in  its  relations  to 
art  ; materials  have  been  accumulated  to  a vast  extent,  but  have  never 
been  so  classified  and  analyzed  as  to  lead  to  any  practical  results. 
The  attempts  which  have  already  been  made  to  this  end  have  been 
misdirected  and  premature,  because  they  have  not  proceeded  upon 
the  broad  basis  of  principle.  It  is  therefore  very  essential  to  bring 
to  bear  upon  our  knowledge  of  the  styles  of  the  past  a very  rigorous 
method,  and  I do  not  see  how  we  can  adopt  a better  one  than  that 
laid  down  in  the  four  precepts  of  Descartes,  which  were  regarded 
by  him  as  amply  sufficient,  if  consistently  and  constantly  observed. 

“ The  first,”  said  he,  “ is  never  to  admit  the  truth  of  anything 
without  thorough  conviction  ; that  is,  sedulously  to  avoid  precipitation 
or  prepossession  of  judgment,  and  to  accept  nothing  as  fact  which 
(does  not  recommend  itself  so  clearly  and  distinctly  to  my  mind  that 
there  can  be  no  possible  occasion  to  doubt. 

“ The  second  is  to  divide  the  subject  I am  investigating  into  as 
many  heads  as  it  is  capable  of,  to  the  end  that  its  difficulties  may  be 
the  more  readily  resolved. 

“ The  third,  so  to  order  my  thoughts  that,  beginning  with  the 
most  simple  and  comprehensible  objects,  I may  gradually  ascend  to 
the  contemplation  and  understanding  of  the  most  complex,  assuming 
a regular  order  of  induction  in  those  subjects  which  do  not  seem  natu- 
rally so  to  arrange  themselves. 

“ The  last,  always  to  make  such  thorough  and  comprehensive  re- 
views of  my  studies  as  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  omitting  or  not 
giving  due  weight  to  any  of  the  considerations  which  bear  upon 
them.” 

These  precepts  are  admirably  adapted  to  the  consideration  of  the 
subject  which  now  occupies  our  attention.  Let  us  therefore  apply 
them  to  the  study  and  practice  of  art,  so  that  we  may  at  length  find 
the  architecture  of  our  time,  or,  as  art  is  long,  so  that  we  may  at 
least  prepare  the  way  for  those  who  are  to  follow  us.  In  fact,  if 
we  bring  to  bear  upon  the  study  of  past  styles  a critical  analysis  suffi- 
ciently attentive  and  intelligent  to  separate  the  true  from  the  false,  to 


METHODICAL  STUDY  OE  TIIE  STYLES. 


477 


educe  primordial  principles  from  among  all  the  accidents  of  tradi- 
tion, we  shall  not  only  have  divested  these  styles  of  the  various 
influences  which  successively  modified  their  true  expression,  but 
shall  have  discovered  what  that  true  expression  is,  and  how  it  was 
evolved  out  of  immutable  principles  ; we  can  then  accept  such  forms 
or  expressions  as  those  most  nearly  approaching  the  truth,  and  can 
admit  them  as  types.  If  we  would  arrive  at  an  immediate  and  prac- 
tical application  of  the  facts  and  ideas  which  archaeology  places  at 
our  disposal,  this  eliminating  process  is  necessary  ; it  enables  us  to 
distinguish  the  purely  speculative  study  from  that  which  may  be  bent 
to  an  actual  and  tangible  result. 

Thus,  for  example,  I find  that  most  of  the  older  accessible  monu- 
ments of  Asia  Minor  are  stone  imitations  of  wooden  forms  ; these 
monuments  I can  study  as  exceedingly  interesting  historically,  but  I 
can  draw  no  useful  practical  conclusion  from  them.  I see  how  a 
race  of  men,  transported  from  a wooded  region  to  a country  without 
wood,  preserved  the  traditions  of  their  primitive  arts.  I prove  the 
existence  of  the  traditions  by  the  evidence  before  me,  but  I must  at 
the  same  time  see  that  the  traditions  are  contrary  to  the  elementary 
principles  of  architecture.  Again,  if  I examine  the  monuments  of 
Thebes,  I find  there  the  strangest  contradiction  between  the  forms 
and  the  means  of  construction  adopted  ; 1 find  that  men,  by  the  ex- 
ercise of  prodigious  mechanical  forces,  constructed  in  stone  immense 
imitations  of  mud-plastered  cabins.  This  fact  is  extremely  curious 
and  the  result  may  be  beautiful,  but  in  the  midst  of  a civilization 
like  ours  I seek  in  vain  for  any  practical  application  of  it.  It  is  only 
when  Ave  tread  upon  the  soil  occupied  by  the  forerunners  of  western 
civilization  that  we  begin  to  discover  traces  of  a perfect  concord  of 
form  and  principles,  — a style  in  architecture.  The  Greeks  were  the 
first  who,  in  the  art  of  architecture,  arose  superior  to  tradition  and 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  subject  a logical,  rational,  and  inquiring 
spirit.  Between  the  buildings  of  Greece,  therefore,  and  those  of 
India,  there  is  all  the  distance  which  separates  Plato  from  Buddha. 
But  it  is  precisely  because  I admire  Plato,  that  T would  avoid  repeat- 
ing in  this  nineteenth  century  the  monuments  contemporary  with 
him.  For  the  Greeks,  in  submitting  form  to  principles,  showed  us 
the  way  of  truth  in  art;  and  the  more  we  are  delighted  at  beholding 
how  the  lovely  fragments  upon  the  Athenian  Acropolis  are  the  exact 
image  and  expression  of  the  civilization  of  Athens  under  Pericles,  the 


47S 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


more  we  should  avoid  imitating  the  forms  of  these  fragments,  since 
our  social  state  and  our  public  and  private  customs  are  essentially 
different  from  those  which  prevailed  among  the  contemporaries  of 
Socrates. 

Thus,  in  studying  the  arts  of  the  past,  we  must  make  an  absolute 
distinction  between  the  form  which  is  nothing  more  than  the  thought- 
less mechanical  imprint  of  a tradition,  and  the  form  which  is  the 
immediate  expression  of  a practical  requirement,  of  a social  state. 
The  latter  is  the  only  one  the  study  of  which  can  lead  to  any  practi- 
cal results  ; and  these  results  are  not  to  be  reached  by  any  direct 
imitation  of  this  form,  but  by  observing  how  it  expresses  the  appli- 
cation of  a principle. 

Applying  the  first  precept  of  Descartes,  therefore,  to  the  study  of 
anterior  arts,  it  is  clear  that  I must  not  admit  any  stone  imitation  of 
structures  originally  contrived  for  other  materials,  and  must  conse- 
quently reject,  as  based  upon  a false  principle,  every  art  which,  blindly 
yielding  to  tradition,  allowed  itself  to  be  betrayed  into  an  untruthful 
expression  ; but  it  is  evident,  on  the  other  hand,  that  I must  atten- 
tively consider  how  styles  have  been  developed  out  of  the  necessities, 
customs,  and  materials  of  nations.  Under  these  limitations,  archaeo- 
logical studies  will  be  of  great  service  to  the  architect  in  familiarizing 
him  with  the  distinctive  architectural  expressions  which  have  grown 
out  of  various  civilizations  and  different  conditions  of  resources,  in 
enlarging  his  capacity  for  design,  and  rendering  him  apt  to  apply  to 
practical  use,  not  the  actual  form  which  he  sees,  but  the  principles 
which  produced  the  form  ; in  this  manner,  if  we  bring  to  bear  upon 
the  arts  of  Greece  a critical  and  thoughtful  investigation,  Ave  shall 
produce  an  original  style  of  architecture  based  truly  and  firmly  upon 
modern  civilization. 

Passing  to  the  second  precept,  I should  ascertain  whether,  among 
the  various  examples  which  I review,  there  are  not  certain  immuta- 
ble, independent  rules,  equally  applicable  to  all,  and  arising  either 
from  social  condition  or  from  the  employment  of  certain  materials  ; 
m this  manner  I shall  discover  that  harmony  of  proportions,  for  ex- 
ample, is  established  on  certain  geometrical  formulas,  which  I shall 
find  alike  applied  to  styles  apparently  very  different  in  character, 
as  I have  already  had  occasion  to  explain  ; I shall  find,  too,  that, 
on  account  of  a similarity  of  conditions,  the  necessity  of  providing 
against  the  same  accidents  or  the  desire  of  producing  the  same  eflects, 


ANALYSIS  OF  TRUTHFUL  EXPRESSION. 


47!) 


similar  mouldings  have  been  adopted  by  people  centuries  apart  and 
having  no  knowledge  of  each  other.  Carrying  on  this  train  of  inves- 
tigation, proceeding  always  analytically,  I shall  presently  arrive  at  the 
conclusion  that,  man  being  at  bottom  always  the  same,  there  is  such 
an  identity  of  character  between  the  results  of  his  intellectual  activity, 
when  he  allows  himself  to  be  guided  solely  by  a regard  for  truthful- 
ness of  expression,  that  the  same  forms  of  art  are  constantly  recurring 
under  his  hand,  although  approached  by  very  different  paths.  1 shall 
also  discover  that  such  similar  results  may  appear  very  different  to 
the  eye,  and  that  this  apparent  paradox  arises  from  the  fact  that  they 
are  deduced,  by  the  same  mental  processes,  from  different  conditions. 
Thus,  I have  nt  my  command  certain  building-stones  of  considerable 
size  and  strength,  monoliths,  and  I am  required  to  build  with  them 
a monument  of  comparatively  small  dimensions.  I must  not  of 
course  be  so  unreasonable  as  to  cut  these  materials  into  small  frag- 
ments to  construct  my  building  ; I therefore  use  some  of  them  as 
posts  or  columns,  and  others  as  lintels  or  architraves  laid  upon 
them.  But  as  these  monoliths  are  difficult  to  transport,  cut,  and 
raise,  I confine  their  use  to  an  open  structure,  a portico,  behind  which 
I build  up  a close  wall,  a cclla  for  example,  in  the  construction  of 
which  I am  justified  in  using  such  materials  of  smaller  dimensions  as 
I can  more  readily  quarry,  transport  to  the  workshops,  and  lay  up. 
I have  formed  the  open  structure  of  my  portico  with  monoliths, 
because  thus  I best  fulfil  the  conditions  of  stability,  I avoid  thrusts 
and  the  possibility  of  dislocations;  but  I have  built  up  my  wall  with 
small  stones  because  it  is  more  convenient  to  do  so,  and  the  result 
obtained  is  sufficiently  solid.  Now  my  wall  must  be  pierced  with  a 
door,  and  must  have  square  corners  ; for  the  frame  of  this  door  I 
must  select  three  large  stones,  or  two  posts  and  a lintel,  and  on  the 
corners  I must  set  on  end  long  stones,  or  antæ,  in  order  to  keep  the 
wall  of  small  masonry  firm  and  strong.  I thus  obtain  a structure, 
in  the  form  and  fashion  of  which  I have  strictly  observed  the  simplest 
laws  of  statics,  and  held  closely  to  the  conditions  imposed  upon  me 
by  the  requirements  of  my  programme  and  by  the  nature  of  the 
materials  at  my  disposal. 

But  let  us  take  an  example  with  different  conditions  : 1 have  to 
construct  an  immense  building  with  small  blocks  of  stone,  as  for 
economical  or  practical  reasons  I cannot  quarry  great  monoliths.  It 
is  no  longer  a question  of  covering  openings  eighteen  or  twenty  feet 


480 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


high  with  lintels  of  six  or  eight  feet  bearing,  of  obtaining  a room 
containing  sixty  or  eighty  superficial  feet,  but  of  bridging  over  open- 
ings thirty  or  forty  feet  wide,  of  combining  and  vaulting  over  gal- 
leries of  various  heights  ; in  a word,  the  problem  is,  not  to  build  a 
Greek  temple,  but  a Christian  church.  It  is  clear  that  I must  change 
the  whole  system  of  structure,  without  entirely  giving  up  the  use  of 
monoliths  and  even  of  lintels,  by  means  of  which  I propose  to 
strengthen  and  correct  my  walls  of  small  masonry,  as  the  Greeks  did, 
and  thus  enable  them  to  resist  the  thrust  of  vaults  and  avoid  the  bad 
effects  of  settlings. 

Instead  of  lintels  of  stone  and  ceilings  of  wood  I must  construct 
vaults,  and  I must  seek  such  a system  of  vaulting  as  will  most  nearly 
resemble  the  conditions  of  the  ceiling,  not  in  appearance,  but,  as 
far  as  possible,  in  result,  that  is,  by  reducing  the  thrusts  to  a mini- 
mum and  so  dividing  them  that  they  shall  bear  only  on  certain 
chosen  points  of  support  ; I thus  follow  the  same  course  of  reason- 
ing as  was  applied  by  the  Greek  architects  ; I employ  the  same  means 
and  start  from  the  same  principles,  but  arrive  at  results  very  different 
in  appearance,  because  l have  had  to  satisfy  a very  different  pro- 
gramme. There  is  nothing,  moreover,  to  prevent  me  from  adopt- 
ing the  same  system  of  ornamentation  and  the  same  mouldings 
as  the  Greeks  used,  having  ever  in  view,  like  them,  the  conditions 
and  positions  of  their  employment.  Then,  as  regards  the  manner  of 
buttressing  or  slaying  buildings,  I observe  that  the  Greeks,  in  their 
temples,  used  large  stones  on  the  outside  and  small  masonry  within  ; 
that  they  caused  their  angle  columns  to  incline  inwards  slightly 
towards  the  centre  of  the  structure,  and  depressed  their  horizontal 
lines  in  the  middle,  in  order  to  refer  all  the  thrusts  towards  the  inte- 
rior. But,  having  a much  larger  building  to  construct  and  the  build- 
ing materials  at  my  disposal  being  much  smaller  and  comparatively 
feeble,  although  I employ  the  same  principle  as  the  Greeks,  I find  that 
the  conditions  by  which  I am  governed  are  such  that  mere  depres- 
sions of  lines  and  slight  inclinations  of  piers  are  insufficient,  and  that 
it  is  only  by  a system  of  exterior  abutting  arches  and  buttresses  that 
I can  withstand  the  accumulated  thrusts  ot  the  interior  structure. 

Thus,  by  bringing  to  bear  upon  my  studies  of  ancient  monuments 
a methodical  spirit,  I learn  that,  when  the  condition's  are  different, 
the  application  of  identical  principles  must  produce  results  different 
in  appearance;  and  that,  in  order  to  arrive  at  these  different  results, 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  STYLES. 


4SI 


man,  his  genius  being  one,  has  used  the  same  course  of  reasoning  and 
in  many  details  has  fallen  upon  the  same  expression. 

The  third  precept  of  Descartes  treats  of  the  necessity  of  a true  or 
fictitious  classification,  and  has  a direct  bearing  upon  the  character  of 
the  studies  by  the  pursuit  of  which  we  are  to  deduce  an  architecture. 
If  in  speculative  archaeology  there  is  but  one  sort  of  classification  — 
the  chronological — admitted,  it  is  otherwise  when  this  science  is 
cultivated  with  a practical  aim.  Classification  must  then  be  gov- 
erned by  the  essential  characteristics  or  natures  of  the  examples  which 
we  review,  and  by  whatever  analogous  applications  of  the  immutable 
principles  of  art  these  examples  may  present.  Thus,  we  see  that 
there  are  but  three  architectures  : wooden  architecture,  masonic 
architecture  (perfected  hy  the  Greeks),  and  concrete  architecture 
(developed  by  the  Romans).  From  masonic  architecture  was  born 
the  lintel  and  post,  the  simplest  expression  of  statics.  From  concrete 
architecture  was  born  the  vault  and  all  its  concomitants.  Out  of 
these  two  divisions  the  Middle  Ages  created  a composite  in  which 
both  systems  were  simultaneously  felt  ; and  this  composite,  from 
the  very  fact  that  it  sought  to  conciliate  two  opposing  or  contrasting 
principles,  gave  birth  to  a new  principle,  of  which  architectural  antiq- 
uity was  totally  ignorant,  that  of  equilibrium,  a principle  particu- 
larly pliant  to  all  the  exigencies  of  our  modern  social  state. 

The  fourth  precept  points  out  the  necessity  of  extending  the  area 
of  investigation  as  far  as  practicable,  so  that  I may  become  familiar 
with  various  precedents  and  profit,  by  acquired  experience  ; for  to 
concentrate  my  studies  exclusively  upon  problems  which  have  been 
already  resolved,  to  confine  myself  to  investigating  the  characteristics 
of  an  era  in  all  its  minute  details,  instead  of  accepting  what  is  essen- 
tial and  proceeding  to  other  fields,  is  a waste  of  time.  But  mere 
accumulation  of  facts  is  a stumbling-block  for  the  architect  without  a 
methodical  classification.  Thus,  I study  alike  Egyptian  architecture 
and  the  architecture  of  the  Roman  Empire  : but,  in  the  former,  I find 
that  the  forms  adopted  are  often  better  suited  to  a structure  of  Avopd 
and  clay  plastered  than  to  a structure  of  massive  masonry  ; and,  in 
the  latter,  that  the  principal  merit  and  beauty  of  the  style  consists 
in  the  perfect  harmony  between  the  forms  and  the  structure.  1 clas- 
sify the  facts  and  examples  thus  obtained  accordingly,  and  my  obser- 
vation of  them  impresses  me  with  the  importance  of  using  only  those 
forms  which  most  directly  and  plainly  express  the  structure. 

31 


4S2 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


By  thus  classifying  the  results  of  extensive  research  in  precedents, 
I hope  to  obtain  such  a feeling  for  purity  and  truthfulness  of  style 
as  never  to  fall  into  that  confusion  of  form  and  structure,  that  entire 
absence  of  individuality  and  frankness  of  expression,  which  renders 
so  much  of  our  modern  architecture  cpiite  unintelligible  and  uninter- 
esting. 

Wearied  with  the  unprofitable  series  of  imitations,  more  or  less 
correct,  of  anterior  styles  of  architecture,  a certain  school  has  lately 
arisen  in  Paris,  based  upon  the  principle  of  composing  a new  archi- 
tecture out  of  all  the  good  features  of  these  former  styles  ; a danger- 
ous error,  for  a macaronic  style  cannot  be  a new  style.  It  may  in- 
dicate some  shallow  knowledge  and  a certain  amount  of  skill  and 
spirit  on  the  part  of  those  who  use  it,  but  it  can  never  be  the  mani- 
festation of  a principle  or  of  an  idea.  Even  the  best  examples  of  this 
sort  of  composition  must  remain  isolated  and  sterile,  suggesting  the 
coming  of  no  new  era  in  the  arts.  Simple  principles  are  alone  pro- 
ductive ; and  it  is  worthy  of  remark  that  the  more  simple  they  are, 
the  more  beautiful  and  varied  are  their  ultimate  results.  This  sub- 
ject has  been  referred  to  in  the  preceding  Discourse  in  speaking  of 
the  organic  creation  and  of  vertebrate  animals.  Certainly,  the  main 
principle  involved  in  the  creation  of  such  a reptile  as  the  lizard  is  a 
very  simple  one  ; and  yet  between  him  and  the  ultimate  complicated 
result,  man,  what  infinite  variety  of  development,  always  logically 
deduced  and  by  transitions  hardly  perceptible  ! What  more  simple 
than  to  lay  a stone  horizontally  upon  two  vertical  posts  ? Yet  from 
this  simple  principle  what  results  of  exquisite  beauty  were  deduced 
by  the  Greeks  ! When  the  Romans  somewhere  found  or  somehow 
discovered  the  principle  of  the  concrete  vault,  it  Avas  certainly  a 
deduction  from  a very  simple  principle,  yet  what  combinations  at 
length  grew  out  of  this  primitive  conception  ! And  when  the  west- 
ern architects  of  the  twelfth  century  added  to  this  principle  of  the 
concrete  vault  those  of  elasticity  and  equilibrium,  what  marvels  of 
structure  were  the  result  ! Did  they  not  in  less  than  a century 
develop  their  system  to  the  last  limits  of  material  possibility? 

Here,  then,  are  three  architectures,  the  first  two  starting  from  two 
distinct  and  different  principles,  and  the  third  adding  to  these  a new 
principle  ; and  from  these  three  were  rigorously  and  strictly  deduced 
as  many  fully  developed,  definite,  and  characteristic  styles,  with  all 
their  innumerable  possibilities  of  individual  expression. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  STYLES.  4S3 


If  we  turn  to  the  philosophic  side  of  the  question,  we  shall  observe 
that  the  Greeks,  divided,  as  they  were,  into  little  republics,  chose  that 
species  of  architecture  which  best  suited  their  social  state.  Rela- 
tively insignificant  in  point  of  population,  considering  themselves 
superior  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  forming  an  exclusive  and  refined 
society,  passionately  fond  of  distinction  and  beauty  of  form,  they 
naturally  rejected  everything  which  could  vulgarize  their  architec- 
ture. In  their  eyes,  grandeur  did  not  consist  in  dimensions,  but  in 
choice  of  proportions  and  purity  of  execution  ; for  all  their  monu- 
ments were  small  when  compared  with  those  of  their  Asiatic  neigh- 
bors, and  especially  so  when  placed  side  by  side  with  those  of  impe- 
rial Rome. 

We  shall  observe  also  that  the  Romans,  inspired  by  a social  idea 
entirely  opposed  to  that  of  the  Greeks,  assimilating  races,  and  gather- 
ing them  together  under  their  prevailing  standards,  inviting  or  con- 
straining them  to  become  Romans,  created  an  architecture  well  suited 
to  their  cosmopolitan  spirit.  They  seemed  to  build  monuments  for 
the  whole  human  race,  and  composed  a system  of  construction  equally 
available  at  Cologne  or  Carthage. 

If  the  Greeks  contributed  anything  to  Roman  architecture,  it  was, 
as  we  have  repeatedly  said,  a covering,  a dress,  and  not  a principle. 
But  in  the  twelfth  century  there  was  introduced  at  Paris,  the  centre 
of  European  civilization  at  that  time,  a modern  element  out.  of  the 
degenerate  traditions  of  the  empire.  It  concerned  itself  with  me- 
chanical forces,  and  employed  materials  solely  in  view  of  their  natu- 
ral adaptabilities  ; it  investigated  the  laws  of  equilibrium  to  replace 
the  laws  of  inert  stability,  which  alone  were  known  to  the  Greeks 
and  Romans  ; it  sought  to  economize  material  and  human  effort  ; 
into  the  midst  of  unity  of  masses  and  orders  it  admitted  variety  of 
detail,  that  is  to  say,  individuality  within  the  limits  of  style,  as  also 
it  admitted  perfect  liberty  of  means  within  the  limits  of  unity  of  con- 
ception. Before  long,  breaking  away  from  tradition,  it  obtained  its 
ornamentation  from  the  leaves  and  flowers  of  the  field,  curiously 
studied.  It  made  of  the  great  religious  monument  an  encyclopaedia 
of  knowledge,  instructing  the  people  through  their  eyes.  In  the 
course  of  active  observation  and  experiment  it  created  in  architecture, 
what  Roger  Bacon  attempted  in  the  sciences,  a complete  revolution. 
Every  edifice  was  but  one  of  the  successive  rounds  of  a ladder  by 
which  architecture  sought  to  raise  itself  to  the  extremest  heights  of 


4S4  DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


an  indomitable  ambition  ; and,  mounting  ever,  it  finally  attained  an 
expression  scarcely  limited  by  the  possibilities  of  the  material  ele- 
ments at  its  disposal. 

What  would  these  mediaeval  artists  have  effected  if  the  materials 
and  means  of  modern  times  had  been  available  to  them  ? And  what 
may  we  not  effect,  if,  instead  of  tampering  with  all  the  styles,  without 
examining  their  principles,  we  simply  take  up  the  theme  where  they 
left  it,  and  develop  it  according  to  the  theories  which  they  found  so 
capable  and  so  productive  ? We  cannot  conceal  from  ourselves  the 
fact  that  we  are  to-day  submitting  ourselves,  in  architecture,  to  the 
authority  of  the  ancients,  just  as  the  schools  of  the  thirteenth  century 
submitted  themselves  to  the  authority  of  Aristotle,  without  examina- 
tion or  knowledge.  But  let  us  hear  what  the  monk,  Roger  Bacon, 
had  to  say  in  12G7  with  respect  to  this  blind  submission  to  the 
authority  of  a master  : — 

“ Hardly  half  a century  ago,  Aristotle  was  suspected  of  impiety 
and  proscribed  by  the  schools.  To-day,  behold  him  elevated  to  the 
position  of  sovereign  lord  and  master  ! What  is  his  title  ? He  was 
learned,  some  say  ; this  may  be  so,  but  he  did  not  exhaust  all  knowl- 
edge. He  did  what  it  was  possible  for  a man  to  do  in  his  time,  but 

he  did  not  touch  the  limits  of  wisdom But,  says  the  school,  we 

must  respect  the  ancients.  Yes,  doubtless  the  ancients  deserve  our 
respect,  and  it  is  proper  for  us  to  recognize  our  obligations  to  them 
for  having  prepared  the  way  for  us  ; but  we  should  not  lose  sight  of 
the  fact  that  these  ancients  were  but  men,  and  that  they  were  not  un- 
frequently  deceived  ; that  the  greater  their  antiquity  the  greater  their 
errors,  for  the  youngest  are  in  reality  the  oldest:  modern  generations, 
since  they  inherit  all  the  works  of  the  past,  ought  to  surpass  their 
predecessors  in  knowledge.”* 

Can  we  use  any  better  language  with  respect  to  that  school  whose 
aim  is  to  teach  us  to  forget  all  that  the  Middle  Ages  have  taught  us  ? 
This  same  Roger  Bacon,  this  monk  of  the  thirteenth  century,  worthy 
associate  of  the  artists  of  his  time,  raising  his  voice  vehemently 
against  scholastic  routine,  said  again  in  his  Ojms  Tertium  : — - 

“ I call  that  experimental  science  which  neglects  arguments  ; for 
the  strongest  arguments  can  prove  nothing  so  long  as  their  conclu- 
sions remain  unverified  by  experience. 

“ Experimental  science  does  not  receive  truth  from  the  hands  of 


“ Compendium  philosophise,”  Cap.  I. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  METHOD  IN  DESIGN. 


48  5 


any  superior  sciences  ; it  is  she  who  is  the  mistress,  and  they  who 
are  her  servants. 

“ Indeed,  she  has  the  right  to  command  all  the  sciences,  since  she 
alone  certifies  and  consecrates  their  results. 

“ Experimental  science  is,  therefore,  the  queen  of  sciences  and  the 
end  of  all  speculation.” 

And  further  on  : * “ In  all  our  investigations  we  must  employ  the 
Lest  possible  method.  Now,  this  method  is  to  study  in  their  neces- 
sary order  the  parts  of  science,  to  consider  first  the  part  whose  place 
is  really  and  naturally  at  the  beginning,  the  easiest  before  the  most 
difficult,  the  general  before  the  particular,  the  simple  before  the  com- 
plex ; again,  as  life  is  short,  we  must  select  for  our  study  the  most 
useful  objects  ; and,  in  fine,  scientific  investigation  should  be  con- 
ducted with  all  the  clearness  and  certainty  possible,  without  any 
alloy  of  doubt  or  obscurity.  But  all  this  is  impossible  without 
experience  ; for  we  have  three  methods  of  acquiring  knowledge,  — 
authority,  reason,  and  experience  : but  authority  has  no  value  if  it 
is  not  proved  ; it  can  make  us  believe,  but  cannot  make  us  compre- 
hend ; it.  can  impose  itself  upon  the  mind  without  enlightening  it; 
and  as  for  reason,  we  can  only  distinguish  sophistry  from  demon- 
stration by  verify  my  its  conclusions  with  experience  and  practice .” 

This  is  the  kind  of  reasoning  employed  by  the  men  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  who  built  monuments  which  we  sometimes  admire,  but  of 
which  we  know  so  little  ! Roger  Bacon  put  into  words  the  princi- 
ples of  the  lay  school  of  architecture,  which  was  founded  upon  the 
last  traditions  of  Roman  art.  Method,  examination,  experience  ; the 
entire  system  is  comprised  in  these  three  words. 

Let  us  return  to  the  precepts  laid  down  by  Descartes  : “ Never  to 
receive  anything  for  truth  which  does  not  clearly  and  distinctly  rec- 
ommend itself  to  the  mind  as  such.”  If  this  precept  is  applicable  to 
philosophy,  it  is  still  more  applicable  to  architecture,  which  rests 
upon  material  or  purely  mathematical  laws. 

Thus,  it  is  true  that  a very  long,  wide,  and  high  room  should  be 
lighted  by  larger  windows  than  those  appropriate  for  a chamber  ; the 
contrary  is  lalse.  It  is  true  that  a portico,  composed  of  a colonnade 
or  arcade,  is  intended  as  a shelter  from  the  rain,  the  sun,  and  the 
wind  ; the  relations  between  the  heights  and  widths  of  this  portico 
must  be  such  that  those  who  walk  beneath  may  receive  this  protec- 

* Cap.  XIII. 


488 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


tion  ; the  contrary  is  false.  It  is  true  that  a door -is  made  for  exit 
and  entrance,  and  the  size  of  the  opening  of  this  door  should  be  regu- 
lated by  the  greater  or  less  number  who  habitually  go  in  and  out 
thereat  ; but,  however  dense  a crowd  may  be,  it  never  averages  more 
than  six  feet  in  height,  or,  supposing  it  is  composed  of  people  bear- 
ing lances,  banners,  canopies,  and  the  like,  it  never  attains  a height  of 
more  than  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  ; to  make  a door  fifteen  feet  wide  by 

thirty  high  is  therefore  absurd.  It  is  true  that  a column  is  a sup- 

port, not  a decoration,  like  an  arabesque  or  a frieze  ; if,  therefore,  you 
have  no  work  for  columns  to  do,  you  should  not  cover  your  façades 
with  them.  It  is  true  that  the  object  of  a cornice  is  to  protect  the 
walls  from  the  rain  ; to  place  a heavy  projecting  cornice  in  an  inte- 
rior, therefore,  is  unreasonable.  It  is  true  that  a staircase  is  neces- 

sary to  give  access  to  the  upper  parts  of  a building  ; it  is  not  a place 
of  repose,  but  of  passage  ; if,  therefore,  it  is  made  more  important 
than  the  rooms  to  which  it  gives  access,  it  may  be  a magnificent 
staircase,  but  it  is  certainly  a very  unreasonable  one.  It  is  true  that 
the  thing  which  bears  should  be  proportioned  to  the  thing  borne; 
but  to  build  a wall  or  a series  of  piers  of  stones  six  or  eight  feet 
thick,  simply  to  carry  floors  which  might  be  sustained  quite  as  well 
by  a wall  three  feet  thick,  is  to  do  an  inexplicable  thing,  which  satis- 
fies neither  my  understanding  nor  my  eves,  and  is  a prodigious  waste 
of  precious  material.  It  is  true  that  vaults  ought  to  be  stayed  by 
buttresses  of  some  kind  ; but  it  is  a lie  to  use  pilasters,  engaged 
columns,  and  other  buttresses  when  there  is  no  thrust  to  be  met  by 
them. 

It  does  not  require  any  acquaintance  with  architecture  to  compre- 
hend such  plain  reasoning  as  this,  and  by  applying  it  to  classic,  me- 
diaeval, and  modern  styles,  we  may  readily  arrive  at  their  real  respec- 
tive values.  We  shall  find  that,  while  Greek  architecture  can  stand 
the  test,  that  of  the  Romans  often  fails  beneath  it  ; that  the  French 
lay  architects  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  rigidly  sub- 
mitted to  these  primitive  principles,  while  we  in  modern  times  have 
been  too  apt  to  disregard  them.  The  first  Cartesian  precept,  based 
upon  truthfulness  of  expression,  thus  supplies  us  with  our  first  classi- 
fication of  architectural  precedents.  According  to  this,  a little  house 
in  Pompeii,  a city-gate,  a fountain,  or  a well  may  assume  a far 
greater  value  as  a work  of  art  than  a palace.  Again,  the  application 
of  this  test,  while  enabling  us  to  distinguish  between  the  true  and 


ANALYSIS  OF  ARCHITECTURAL  PRECEDENTS. 


487 


the  false,  will  render  us  familiar  with  the  various  fashions  of  expres- 
sion employed  by  the  architects  of  the  past  ; for  the  simple  expres- 
sion of  truth  in  architecture  is  not  necessarily  high  art  ; it  should  be 
expressed  with  skill  and  clearness,  it  should  assume  a beautiful  or,  at 
least,  a perfectly  fit  form.  The  arts  may  remain  obscure  and  repul- 
sive, even  when  under  the  strict  control  of  reason  and  logic  ; they 
may  absolutely  be  reasoned  into  ugliness.  But  if  this  is  sometimes 
the  case,  it  is  no  less  true  that  real  beauty  can  only  be  obtained  when 
developed  in  accordance  with  laws  based  upon  reason.  Every  abso- 
lutely beautiful  work  must  be  the  development  of  a rigorously  logical 
principle. 

Having  directed  our  primary  studies  of  the  styles  by  the  applica- 
tion of  the  first  precept  of  Descartes,  we  should  then  pass  to  the 
second,  — “ to  divide,”  said  he,  “ the  subject  I am  investigating  into 
as  many  heads  as  it  is  capable  of,  to  the  end  that  its  difficulties  may 
be  the  more  readily  resolved.”  This  is  the  strict  and  rigid  analysis 
which  belongs  peculiarly  to  speculative  study.  Now  a building  of 
the  old  time  and  style  is  a complete,  finished  whole  ; to  comprehend 
it  in  all  its  parts,  we  are  therefore  constrained  to  reverse  the  process 
of  thought  by  which  its  author  ordered  and  developed  his  concep- 
tion. ITe  proceeded  from  the  primary  idea  to  the  apparent  result, 
from  the  programme  and  the  means  available  to  the  complete  accom- 
plishment of  the  design  ; we,  on  the  other  hand,  must  begin  with 
the  apparent  result,  and  thence  work  our  way  back  successive!  v to 
the  conception  and  to  an  understanding  of  the  programme  and  the 
means  ; we  must  anatomically  dissect  the  edifice,  as  it  were,  in  order 
to  arrive  at  a full  comprehension  of  the  relations,  more  or  less  per- 
fect, which  exist  between  the  external  appearance,  by  which  we  are 
first  struck,  and  the  means  and  reasons  which  lie  hidden  under  this 
appearance  and  which  determined  its  character.  This  second  division 
of  our  studies  is  long,  arduous,  and  difficult,  but  it  is  the  best  possi- 
ble exercise  for  him  who  would  learn  to  compose,  to  create.  Analy- 
sis is  the  path  to  synthesis.  But  the  more  complicated  a civilization 
has  become,  the  more  difficult  it  is  to  analyze  its  monuments,  to  elicit 
the  motives  which  lead  to  their  conception,  the  material  and  moral 
influences  which  governed  their  execution  and  which  should  contrib- 
ute to  insure  their  duration.  If  it  requires  but  a short  time  and  a 
comparatively  slight  effort  to  analyze  a Greek  temple,  it  is  otherwise 
with  a hall  in  a Roman  bath,  and  especially  so  with  a mediæval 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


4SS 


cathedral  ; and  since  our  modern  civilization  is  very  complicated,  and 
since  its  monuments  must  have  a far  more  delicate  and  complicated 
organization,  our  analytical  studies  should  not  cease  with  the  dissec- 
tion of  the  simplest  works  of  antiquity,  but  should  proceed  succes- 
sively to  the  consideration  of  more  complex  works,  embracing  more 
extended  requirements,  encumbered  with  more  details,  and  embar- 
rassed by  more  serious  obstacles. 

To  restrict  architectural  education  to  a knowledge  of  a few  frag- 
mentary  monuments  of  antiquity,  or  to  imitate  these  monuments  with 
more  or  less  success,  is  certainly  not  the  way  to  arrive  at  an  architecture 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  It  is  far  better  to  embrace  in  our  studies 
that  long  historical  series  of  efforts  which  developed  in  succession  new 
principles,  new  methods,  and  new  means,  and  to  consider  this  series 
as  a chain  of  human  progress,  all  of  whose  links  are  riveted  according 
to  a logical  order. 

The  third  precept  introduces  us  to  application,  for  it  consists  “ in 
so  ordering  our  thoughts  that,  beginning  with  the  most  simple  and 
comprehensible  objects,  we  may  gradually  ascend  to  the  contempla- 
tion and  understanding  of  the  most  complex,  assuming  a regular 
order  of  induction  in  those  subjects  which  do  not  seem  naturally  so 
to  arrange  themselves.”  Indeed,  if  by  analysis  we  proceed  from  the 
complex  to  the  simple,  from  the  apparent  result  of  the  complete  work 
to  the  means  and  motives  which  produced  that  result,  it  is  an  easier 
task,  when  we  would  design  in  our  turn,  to  proceed  by  synthesis 
from  the  primary  conception  to  the  successive  development  of  conse- 
quences. The  primary  conception  or  causative  reasoning,  which  tixes 
the  character  of  an  architectural  composition,  includes  the  programme 
imposed  and  the  material  means  available.  The  programme  is  but  the 
enunciation  of  the  requirements  ; but  the  means  may  be  restricted  or 
extended  according  to  circumstances,  and  must  exercise  a prevailing 
influence  over  the  design  ; the  same  programme  may  be  carried  out  by 
very  different  means,  according  to  the  locality  and  the  materials  and 
resources  at  our  disposal.  Thus,  an  architect  is  called  upon  to  build 
in  different  places  certain  great  halls  capable  of  containing  two  thou- 
sand persons.  At  A,  materials  of  an  excellent  quality  abound,  dura- 
ble stone,  marble,  or  granite,  and  there  are  large  sums  appropriated  for 
the  purpose  ; while  at  B the  resources  are  restricted,  and  brick  and 
wood  are  alone  available.  Of  course,  these  two  rooms  should  have  the 
same  superficial  area,  as  they  are  both  intended  to  accommodate  the 


APPLICATION  OP  ANALYSIS  TO  MODERN  DESIGN.  489 


same  number,  but  their  appearance  must  vary  with  the  resources  dis- 
posable in  each  case.  Although  satisfying  the  same  programme,  the 
architect  must  adopt  two  very  different  architectural  modes  ; and  if, 
with  his  brick  and  pine  wood,  he  undertakes,  by  means  of  mastics 
and  color,  to  imitate  a structure  of  stone  or  marble,  he  makes  a very 
poor  use  of  his  art.  To  meet  all  the  requirements  of  a programme 
with  a given  method  of  construction  is  not  to  produce  a work  of 
art  ; to  obtain  this  result  a certain  character  of  form,  a style,  is  also 
necessary  ; now,  although  form  should  proceed  directly  from  the  pro- 
gramme and  from  the  construction,  it  may  yet  in  any  two  cases  dif- 
fer materially  ; and  doubtless  the  form  or  style  best  suited  to  our 
civilization  of  to-dav  is  that  which  is  most  flexible  and  most  docile, 
that  which  will  lend  itself  most  readily  to  the  infinite  practical  details 
of  our  complicated  existence.  But  where  are  we  to  seek  for  models, 
or,  at  least,  for  precedents  of  a style  thus  suited  to  all  our  modern 
exigencies  ? We  shall  perhaps  be  more  apt  to  find  it  in  Roman 
than  in  Greek  antiquity  ; but  if  the  question  is  concerning  the  use 
of  iron,  for  instance,  we  shall  find  our  motives,  not  among  Roman 
precedents,  but  rather  in  the  lay  architecture  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
which  seems  almost  to  have  anticipated  the  enlarged  resources  fur- 
nished by  the  industry,  the  mechanical  ingenuity,  and  the  immense 
facility  of  transportation  of  the  present  day.  Are  there  not,  for  in- 
stance, very  intimate  relations  between  the  great  room  of  the  palace 
at  Paris,  which  was  burned  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, and  the  Library  of  Sainte-Geneviève,  which  was  built  a few 
years  ago  ? And  do  not  the  classic  appointments  of  this  modern 
room,  instead  of  adding  to  its  merit,  rather  tend  to  disturb  its  unity 
by  a mixture  of  foreign  elements,  a contrast  of  forms  derived  from 
two  conflicting  principles? 

Now,  assuming  that  we  have  ascertained  how  best  to  satisfy  the 
practical  requirements  of  our  programme,  and  that  our  method  of 
construction  is  determined  on,  how  are  we  to  proceed  from  the  sim- 
ple to  the  complex  in  composition  according  to  the  third  precept  of 
Descartes?  First,  by  knowing  the  nature  of  the  materials  we  are  to 
employ  ; second,  by  using  these  materials  with  a strict  regard  for 
their  nature,  attributes,  and  capacities,  so  that  the  form  which  they 
are  made  to  assume  shall  exactly  express  these  attributes  and  capaci- 
ties ; third,  by  admitting  into  this  expression  a principle  of  unity  and 
harmony,  that  is  to  say,  a scale,  a system  of  proportion,  a method  of 


490 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


decoration,  appropriate  and  significant  as  regards  the  destination  of 
the  edifice,  without  disregarding  that  variety  which  may  be  suggested 
by  the  different  character  of  the  requirements  we  are  endeavoring  to 
satisfy. 

To  know  the  nature  of  the  materials  we  are  to  employ  is  not  only 
to  know  the  strength  and  texture  of  stone,  the  pliability  and  toughness 
of  forged  iron,  the  rigidity  and  brittleness  of  cast-iron,  etc.,  but  it  is 
to  be  able  to  anticipate  the  effects  these  materials  are  capable  of  pro- 
ducing under  certain  conditions  ; it  is  to  comprehend  thoroughly,  for 
example,  the  essential  difference  of  expression  between  a monostyle 
set  up  on  end  and  a pier  built  up  of  courses  of  masonry  ; between 
a wall  faced  with  broad,  flat  slabs  of  stone  and  a wall  of  solid, 
square  ashlar  ; between  an  archivolt  composed  of  stones  whose  upper 
surfaces  are  concentric  with  the  lower,  and  one  whose  stones  are 
built  in  with  the  level  courses  of  masonry  above:  between  a flat 
arch  and  a monolithic  lintel  ; between  an  arch  composed  of  many 
successive  ranges  of  voussoirs  and  one  composed  of  but  a single 
range  ; between  the  forms  appropriate  to  a masonry  laid  up  with 
square,  closely  fitting  joints,  like  that  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans, 
and  the  forms  suited  to  a looser  masonry  laid  up  in  beds  of  mor- 
tar ; between  an  exterior  door-frame  or  window-frame  composed  of 
two  monolithic  jambs  in  a wall  of  plaster  or  concrete  and  one  whose 
jambs,  under  similar  circumstances,  are  built  up  in  horizontal  courses, 
the  one  being  a good  and  effective  architectural  form,  because  intel- 
ligible and  reasonable,  and  the  other  offensive  to  the  eye  because 
suggestive  of  weakness.  A- knowledge  of  the  capacity  of  materials 
for  expression  includes,  in  fine,  an  appreciation  of  the  proper  rela- 
tions between  the  joints  of  masonry  and  the  mouldings.  To  em- 
ploy materials,  not  only  with  a due  regard  to  their  strength  and 
adaptability  to  the  duties  they  are  to  perform,  but  to  give  to  them 
the  form  and  style  which  shall  most  exactly  and  elegantly  express 
this  strength  and  adaptability,  is,  therefore,  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant points  of  composition  ; it  enables  us  to  give  to  the  simplest 
structure  a style  and  a particular  distinction.  A mere  quoin  or  chain 
of  stone  in  a wall  may  thus  become  an  expression  of  art.  A column 
or  pillar,  fashioned  with  a studied  regard  for  the  nature  of  the  mate- 
rial of  which  it  is  made  and  the  duties  it  has  to  perform,  satisfies  the 
most  fastidious  eye.  A capital  whose  mouldings  are  designed  with 
an  intelligent  consideration  for  its  position,  surroundings,  and  func- 


UNITY  AN  ESSENTIAL  ELEMENT  OP  DESIGN. 


491 


tion  must  be  a beautiful  object.  A corbel  designed  to  express  the 
support  it  gives  must  produce  a better  effect  than  one  so  formed  as 
to  seem  too  weak  for  its  function. 

To  admit  a principle  of  unity  and  harmony  into  the  expression  of 
the  various  requirements  indicated  by  a programme,  that  is  to  say,  a 
scale,  a system  of  proportions,  a method  of  decoration,  which  shall  be 
appropriate  and  significant  as  regards  the  destination  of  an  edifice, 
and  at  the  same  time  not  to  disregard  the  variety  suggested  by  the 
different  nature  of  the  requirements  to  be  satisfied,  — this  is  another 
important  point  in  architectural  composition,  one  calling  for  the  best 
intelligence  of  the  artist.  When  the  conditions  of  the  programme 
have  been  satisfied,  when  the  system  of  construction  has  been  deter- 
mined on,  when  in  our  design  we  have  reasoned  out  such  a form  or 
style  for  each  of  its  parts  as  shall  best  express  its  function  and  the 
materials  of  which  it  is  made,  there  remains  to  bring  the  whole  into 
harmony  by  the  application  of  those  principles  of  unity  which  must 
control  every  work  of  art.  This  is  the  rock  upon  which  nearly  all 
architects  have  split  since  the  sixteenth  century  ; they  have  either 
unreasonably  sacrificed  convenience  and  disregarded  the  most  judi- 
cious use  of  material  for  the  sake  of  an  harmonious  form,  or,  satisfy- 
ing all  the  conditions  of  their  work,  and  employing  their  material 
most  judiciously,  they  have  been  unable  to  harmonize  the  whole  so  as 
to  produce  a unity  of  expression.  But  the  former  error  is  that  into 
which  modern  architects  have  been  most  apt  to  fall.  The  immeasur- 
ably vaunted  architecture  of  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century  in 
France,  that  which  still  remains  the  mistress  of  design,  presents  us 
with  the  most  exaggerated  examples  of  this  deplorable  system. 

In  no  country  and  at  no  time  has  fanaticism  for  symmetry,  for  the 
absolute  order,  been  carried  so  far  as  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  It 
was  the  royal  mania,  and  everybody  yielded  to  it  ; the  sovereign 
found,  in  a certain  architect  of  ordinary  abilities,  who  had  usurped 
the  name  of  artist  and  who  was  puffed  up  with  inordinate  vanity,  a 
man  ever  prompt  to  yield  to  the  caprices  of  his  royal  master  and  to 
flatter  his  fancy  for  ostentatious  uniformity,  and  who  thus  built  up 
his  own  fortune  on  the  ruins  of  the  true  architecture  of  France.* 

* In  this  connection  it  is  well  to  cite  a curions  anecdote  reported  by  Saint-Simon.  It 
affords  an  insight  into  the  taste  of  Louis  XIV.  for  architecture  : — 

“The  king  was  very  fond  of  his  buildings,  and  had  a feeling  for  exactness,  proportions,  and 
symmetry,  without  the  taste  to  make  him  a good  critic,  as  we  shall  presently  see.  The  château 
of  Trianon  had  hardly  arisen  above  the  foundations,  when  he  found  fault  with  a certain  window 


49.3 


DISCOURSES  ON  -ARCHITECTURE. 


One  of  the  most  striking  examples  of  this  disregard  for  good  sense, 
and  therefore  of  good  taste,  is  the  château  of  Clagny,  considered  a 
masterpiece  in  that  reign,  built  by  Hardoin  Mansard  (an  architect  of 
ordinary  ability,  to  whom  we  shall  presently  refer).  Certainly  the 
programme  to  be  satisfied  was  a fine  one,  and  the  site  agreeable; 
but,  for  the  sake  of  obtaining  a symmetrical  architecture,  the  archi- 
tect made  sad  work  of  his  opportunities.  Thus,  the  great  gallery 
in  the  right  wing  has  the  same  order  externally  as  the  left  wing, 
which  contains  only  bedchambers  and  unimportant  rooms.  The 
windows  which  give  light  to  the  dressing-rooms  are  identical  in  char- 
acter with  those  in  the  main  building  belonging  to  the  great  state 
apartments.  The  façade  of  the  chapel  repeats  that  of  the  bath,  to 

on  the  first  floor  then  in  process  of  construction.  Louvois,  -who  was  naturally  brutal  and  had 
been  too  much  spoiled  by  flattery  to  suffer  criticism  even  from  his  master,  disputed  the  point 
boldly  and  obstinately,  and  maintained  that  the  window  was  correct.  Whereupon  the  king 
turned  his  back  and  proceeded  elsewhere  about  the  works. 

“The  next  day  he  met  Le  Nôtre,  a good  architect,  and  famous  for  a taste  in  gardening  which 
he  had  introduced  in  France  and  which  he  had  carried  to  the  highest  pitch  of  perfection.  The 
king  asked  him  if  he  had  visited  the  Trianon  ; on  receiving  a negative  reply,  the  king  explained 
the  fault  which  had  offended  him,  and  told  him  to  go  and  look  at  it.  The  next  day  came  the 
same  question  and  the  same  reply  ; and  so  with  the  day  following  ; the  king  saw  plainly  that  Le 
Nôtre  did  not  dare  to  expose  himself  to  the  pain  of  deciding  in  favor  of  Louvois.  He  therefore, 
in  a pet,  required  Le  Nôtre  to  meet  him  and  Louvois  at  the  works  the  next  day.  There  was  no 
way  of  evading  the  command. 

“ The  following  day,  then,  found  all  three  at  the  Trianon.  The  question  of  the  window  was 
raised,  and  Louvois  disputed  as  before  ; Le  Nôtre  said  not  a word.  The  king  therefore  ordered  him 
tto  take  a line  and  measure,  and  to  report  the  result.  While  he  was  thus  employed,  Louvois,  furious 
at  the  application  of  this  test,  did  not  seek  to  conceal  his  displeasure,  and  continued  to  maintain 
with  feeling  that  this  window  was  quite  parallel  with  the  others.  The  king  awaited  in  silence, 
but  not  without  misgivings.  When  the  examination  was  finished,  he  demanded  of  Le  Nôtre 
the  result  ; Le  Nôtre  hesitated.  The  king  sharply  commanded  him  to  sjieak  out,  and  Le  Nôtre 
thereupon  avowed  that  the  king  was  right,  and  the  fault  existed  as  he  had  stated.  He  had  hardly 
finished  speaking,  when  the  king,  turning  to  Louvois,  rej3roved  him  for  his  obstinacy,  and  said 
that,  but  for  his  own  persistence  in  his  opinions,  the  thing  would  have  been  built  crooked,  and 
he  would  have  been  obliged  to  tear  it  down  as  soon  as  completed.  In  short,  he  rated  the  archi- 
tect soundly. 

“ Louvois,  incensed  at  this  result,  and  mortified  because  the  courtiers,  workmen,  and  valets 
had  been  witnesses  of  his  disgrace,  returned  home  in  great  anger.  There  he  found  Saint- 
Pouange,  Villacerf,  the  Chevalier  de  Nogent,  the  two  brothers  Tilladet,  and  some  other  intimate 
friends,  who  were  much  concerned  at  seeing  him  in  this  state.  ‘ The  fact  is,’  said  he,  ‘ I am 
lost  with  the  king  ; judging  by  the  way  he  has  treated  me  about  a mere  window,  my  only  safety 
hereafter  is  in  a war  which  shall  distract  the  attention  of  the  king  from  his  buildings,  and  leave 

me  absolute  master  over  them  ; and,  by , he  shall  have  a war.’  In  fact,  he  kept  his  word, 

for,  in  a few  months  afterwards,  and,  despite  the  king  and  the  other  powers,  he  managed  to 
carry  out  his  threat,  and  to  absorb  the  king  in  a general  warfare.  This  ruined  the  internal  pros- 
perity of  France,  and  did  not  improve  her  external  relations,  notwithstanding  the  success  of  her 
arms,  but,  on  the  contrary,  was  fruitful  in  national  disgrace.” 

Of  course  Saint-Simon  had  a bitter  tongue,  he  hardly  admired  Louis  XIV.,  and  this  window 
was  scarcely  the  primary  cause  of  the  war  which  was  terminated  with  the  peace  of  Ryswiek  ; the 
anecdote,  however,  at  bottom,  has  all  the  elements  of  truth  in  it. 


UNITY,  NOT  UNIFORMITY. 


493 


which  it  corresponds  ; and,  to  crown  this  chapter  of  inconsistencies, 
the  orangery  is  a fac-simile  of  the  opposite  range  of  buildings  which 
contains  only  servants’  rooms.  Without  doubt,  the  conditions  of  the 
programme  have  been  observed  after  a fashion,  but  with  what  singu- 
lar concessions  to  that  symmetry  which  constituted  what  was  then 
regarded  as  the  majesty  of  an  architectural  composition  ! In  the 
principal  story  the  blunders  are  still  more  shocking,  and  all  the  do- 
mestic comforts  and  necessities  of  the  chateau  are  sacrificed  to  this 
mania  for  monumental  architecture.  The  staircases,  unexpressed  in 
the  general  exterior  mass,  are  small,  dark,  and  inconvenient  ; the 
great  hall  of  the  central  building  absolutely  interrupts  all  direct  cir- 
culation on  the  same  level  between  the  two  wings  ; partitions  abut 
against  windows,  and  pilasters  occur  where  they  have  no  coincidence 
with  the  interior  arrangements. 

This  château  is  a fair  type  of  the  princely  residences  of  that  period. 
In  every  instance  there  is  nothing  in  the  apparent  architecture  exter- 
nally to  indicate  the  interior  disposition  of  apartments.  Certainly, 
neither  the  Greeks  nor  the  Romans,  whom  this  very  school  presents 
to  us  as  excellent  artists  and  worthy  of  careful  imitation,  would 
have  committed  such  palpable  errors  and  so  misunderstood  the 
purposes  of  the  art  ; nor  would  the  builders  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
This  may  be  proved  by  a glance  at  the  antique  villas  or  the  French 
châteaux  up  to  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  aspect  of  unity,  which  since  that  time  has  prevailed  in  archi- 
tectural works,  has  therefore  only  been  obtained  by  torturing  the  pro- 
grammes and  disregarding  truth  of  construction  ; but,  on  the  other 
hand,  wherever  any  attempt  has  been  made  to  shake  off  this  tyranny 
ot  symmetry,  it  has  of  late  been  too  apt  to  result  in  the  opposite 
error,  a sort  of  disregard  of  style,  anarchy  taking  the  place  of  tyr- 
anny ; in  fact,  a regard  for  principles  is  equally  necessary,  whether 
we  propose  to  reform  an  old  art  or  to  create  a new  one  ; they  who  do 
not  know  how  to  protect  themselves  from  a tyranny  cannot  govern 
themselves.  Unity,  therefore,  in  modern  architecture,  is  only  uni- 
formity, and,,  if  uniformity  has  been  avoided,  the  result  has  been 
apt  to  be  disorder.  Now  it  cannot  be  too  often  repeated,  that  the 
classic  as  well  as  the  mediaeval  architects  submitted  their  works  to  the 
principle  of  unity,  without  ever  falling  into  the  error  of  uniformity. 
Every  monument,  no  matter  how  little  it  may  differ  from  others  as 
regards  destination  or  construction,  should  have  its  own  traits  of 


494 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


individuality,  and  yet  it  should  he  so  treated  that  the  period  of  art 
to  which  it  belongs  should  be  perfectly  recognizable,  not  only  in  its 
general  design,  but  in  its  most  unimportant  details.  This  is  the 
result  of  a due  regard  for  the  principles  of  unity.  If  archaeological 
studies  did  nothing  else  than  enable  us  to  distinguish  between  the 
different  styles  of  the  past  by  simple  observation  of  the  philosophy  of 
their  development  respectively,  they  would  render  an  essential  service 
to  modern  art,  which,  in  the  absence  of  such  observation,  is  apt  to 
make  an  incongruous  mixture  of  forms  according  to  the  fashion  or 
caprice  of  the  moment,  with  no  regard  for  that  unity  out  of  which 
alone  can  arise  a distinctive  style. 

“ This  principle  of  unity  and  harmony  in  the  expression  of  the 
various  requirements  indicated  by  a programme”  is,  therefore,  neither 
symmetry  nor  uniformity,  still  less  an  undigested  mixture  of  various 
styles  and  forms  which  is  unintelligible  and  unsatisfactory,  however 
skilfully  made  ; but  it  is,  in  the  first  place,  a strict  regard  for  scale, 
that  is,  the  proper  relation  of  the  various  parts  of  a whole  to  a unit 
of  admeasurement.  The  scale  adopted  by  the  Greeks  in  their  tem- 
ples was  not  an  absolute  but  a relative  unit,  known  as  the  module, 
although,  in  their  dwelling-houses,  it  is  certain  that  they  used  the 
absolute  unit,  which  is  the  size  of  a man.  Now  the  result  of  the 
application  of  the  relative  unit,  the  module  or  half-diameter  of  the 
column,  was  necessarily  an  harmonious  relation  between  the  whole  and 
the  parts.*  Thus  a great  Greek  temple  was  a little  one  magnified. 
In  the  small,  as  in  the  great  monument,  there  were  the  same  har- 
monic relations,  — a perfectly  logical  result  in  cases  like  these,  in 
which  the  order  was  itself  the  monument.  But  the  Romans,  having 
programmes  much  more  extensive  and  complicated  to  fulfil,  immedi- 
ately admitted  into  the  composition  of  their  monuments  an  absolute 
scale,  that  is,  an  invariable  unit  ; but,  instead  of  taking  the  height  of 
a man  for  this  invariable  unit,  they  used  an  order  as  their  point  ot 
departure.  Thus,  in  their  great  structures,  there  was  always  some- 
where a little  order  to  serve  as  a scale  and  to  give  an  idea  of  the 
actual  dimensions  of  the  whole.  Frequently,  as  on  the  exterior  of 
the  baths  of  Dioclesian  at  Rome,  this  little  order  had  actually  no 
other  function  to  perform  than  to  furnish  a standard  of  comparison  so 
that  the  beholder  might  appreciate  the  grandeur  of  the  masses.  So 
also  with  the  niches  filled  with  statues,  so  profusely  spread  over  the 

* See  article  Echelle  in  “Diet,  raisonné  Je  l’arch.  français." 


UNITY  IN  ARCHITECTURAL  DESIGN. 


495 


interior  and  exterior  walls  of  their  monuments  ; the  object  of  this 
detail  was  not  only  decorative,  but  exhibited  a tendency  of  the 
Romans  towards  an  absolute  scale,  to  recall  the  real  dimensions  of 
their  buildings. 

With  the  Byzantine  architects  the  column  became  the  absolute 
scale,  whatever  might  be  the  size  of  their  buildings  in  other  respects  ; 
although  differing  slightly  in  actual  dimensions,  it  practically  served 
as  a standard  of  comparison  to  the  eye.  But  among  the  mediaeval 
architects  the  only  scale  admitted  was  man,  every  part  of  their  struc- 
tures being  composed  with  reference  to  the  height  of  the  human 
figure,*  and  hence,  necessarily,  the  unity  of  the  whole.  With  a point 
of  comparison  so  familiar,  the  real  dimensions  of  their  edifices  be- 
came particularly  appreciable. 

If  we  should  adopt  in  our  architecture  this  principle  of  the  human 
standard  of  admeasurement,  together  with  such  a system  of  geomet- 
rical proportions  as  was  evidently  used  by  the  architects  of  antiquity 
and  of  the  Middle  Ages,  we  should  unite  two  elements  of  composi- 
tion which  would  compel  us  to  remain  true  as  regards  the  expression 
of  dimensions  and  to  establish  harmonious  relations  between  all  the 
parts.  The  mediaeval  architects,  therefore,  were  in  advance  of  the 
Greeks,  in  that  the  latter  admitted  only  the  module  and  not  the  in- 
variable scale.  Why  should  we,  in  continuing  to  use  the  module, 
voluntarily  abandon  the  larger  system  invented  by  the  artists  of  the 
Middle  Ages  ? 

The  principle  of  unity  in  architecture  is  also  put  into  operation 
through  the  system  of  ornamentation,  which,  although  an  important 
element  of  architectural  composition,  was  never  regarded,  in  the  best 
antique  periods,  in  any  other  light  than  as  the  dress  of  the  body, 
after  the  latter  had  been  completely  formed.  But  the  ancients  ad- 
mitted two  methods  of  ornamentation.  The  one  consisted  in  covering, 
without  disturbing  the  constructional  form,  with  a sort  of  tapestry, 
as  it  were,  more  or  less  rich  ; this  was  the  system  adopted  by  the 
Egyptians,  whose  ornamentation  proper  had  no  outline  or  relief 
(statuary  excepted),  but,  like  an  embroidered  stuff,  only  enveloped 
the  geometrical  form,  expressing  itself  in  incised  figures  and  devices. 
The  other  method,  on  the  contrary,  was,  as  it  were,  independent  of 
the  architectural  form  ; according  to  this,  decoration  was  attached  or 

* Seethe  article  of  M.  Lassus  in  the  “Annales  archéologiques,”  Vol.  IL,  Be  l'art  et  clc 
V archéologie. 


496 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


applied  to  this  form  so  as  to  modify  the  constructional  outline  by 
its  own  projections  and  contours.  Instead  of  an  embroidery  spread 
over  the  main  mass,  it  was  composed  of  ornaments  in  relief,  such  as 
leaves,  flowers,  and  other  compositions  taken  from  the  vegetable 
and  animal  kingdom.  The  Greeks,  who  borrowed  a great  deal  from 
the  Egyptians  as  well  as  from  the  Asiatic  races,  with  whom  architec- 
tural decoration  was  rarely  more  than  an  embroidery,  at  first  followed 
these  examples  closely  ; but  their  judgment,  ever  correct,  soon  con- 
vinced them  that  this  method  of  ornamentation,  however  subordinate 
it  was  made  to  the  form  it  decorated,  had  a tendency  apparently  to 
alter  that  form,  or  at  least  destroy  its  character.  It  was  not  long, 
therefore,  before  they  introduced,  in  place  of  an  incised,  or  flat,  a 
bolder  sculptured  ornamentation,  like  an  independent  accessory  at- 
tached to  the  form,  but  not  interfering  with  the  integrity  of  its  out- 
line. But  they  employed  sculptured  ornamentation  with  admirable 
self-denial  and  extreme  sobriety.  It  was  limited  to  the  decoration  of 
a few  members  of  the  cornice  with  beads  or  pearls,  eggs,  and  closely 
clinging  water-leaves,  sometimes  admitting  the  application  of  metallic 
forms  and  bas-reliefs  strictly  enclosed  within  rigid  architectural 
boundaries,  such  as  friezes  ; and  when,  at  a later  period,  they  com- 
posed the  Corinthian  capital,  for  example,  it  was  a basket,  as  it  were, 
enveloped  in  leaves  and  stems  of  acanthus,  longwort,  or  fennel.  This 
system  of  applied  ornamentation  recommended  itself  to  the  ostenta- 
tious taste  of  the  Romans,  and  they  soon  carried  it  to  such  excess  as 
absolutely  to  mask  the  architectural  form  under  a prodigal  abundance 
of  foliage,  garlands,  arabesques,  arms,  trophies  and  symbols  of  all 
kinds.  The  Byzantine  artists  affected  a compromise  between  the 
two  systems,  but  evidently  favored  that  which  enveloped  without 
concealing  the  form  ; in  the  offshoots  of  their  architecture,  however, 
especially  in  that  known  as  the  Arabic,  Oriental  influences  were  pro- 
foundly felt,  and,  under  those  influences,  the  ornamentation  in  em- 
broidery again  prevailed.  But  in  France,  at  the  close  of  the  twelfth 
century,  it  was  abandoned  in  favor  once  more  of  a sculptured  decora- 
tion, exclusively  taken  from  the  local  flora  and  affixed  to  the  archi- 
tectural form  as  if  glued  or  nailed  to  it  ; yet  it  was  so  managed  as 
never  to  contradict  the  form,  but  rather  to  aid  in  developing  it,  — a 
fact  easily  to  be  seen  on  inspecting  the  capitals  of  the  interior  col- 
umns of  the  cathedral  of  Paris.  In  no  architecture,  not  even  in  that 
of  Greece,  has  applied  ornamentation  ever  been  treated  with  more 


THE  STUDY  OE  PRECEDENTS. 


497 


skill  and  discretion  than  here  ; far  from  masking  or  falsifying  the 
form  to  which  it  is  applied,  it  materially  assists  in  its  expression. 

To  undertake  to  conciliate  these  two  systems  of  ornamentation  in 
architectural  composition,  or,  in  other  words,  to  decorate  one  part  of 
a design  with  embroidery  and  another  with  attached  ornaments, 
one  part  with  sunken  arabesques,  and  another  with  ornaments  in  re- 
lief, is  to  cancel  the  good  effects  of  both  and  to  offend  against  the 
principle  of  unity. 

The  last  precept  laid  down  by  Descartes  in  his  method  of  study  is, 
he  says,  “ always  to  make  such  thorough  and  comprehensive  re- 
views of  my  studies  as  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  omitting  or  not 
giving  due  weight  to  any  of  the  considerations  which  bear  upon 
them.”  If  this  precept  is  useful  in  its  application  to  philosophical 
investigations,  it  is  even  more  essential  to  architectural  composition. 
The  designer  has  by  no  means  completed  his  work  when  he  has 
arranged  his  plan  in  the  most  convenient  and  satisfactory  manner 
and  expressed  its  characteristics  in  his  elevations  ; all  the  parts  must 
be  harmonized  and  bound  together  by  a prevailing  idea  ; all  the  ma- 
terials he  uses  must  be  used  judiciously  and  with  a careful  regard  for 
their  respective  attributes  ; they  must  have  neither  too  much  strength 
nor  too  much  lightness  ; they  must  indicate  their  function  by  their 
form  ; stone  must  appear  plainly  to  be  stone  ; iron  must  seem  to  be 
iron,  and  wood,  wood  ; and  at  the  same  time  all  these  materials  must 
be  treated  so  as  to  combine  without  offending  the  principles  of  unity. 
This  was  an  easy  task  to  the  Romans,  when  they  used  only  a con- 
crete construction  with  clay,  bricks,  or  rubble,  and  a revetem.ent  of 
marble  ; but  it  is  far  otherwise  with  us,  who  have  to  employ  mate- 
rials of  various  or  even  conflicting  properties,  and  to  give  to  each  of 
them  the  form  which  most  naturally  expresses  these  properties.  Now, 
inasmuch  as  the  builders  of  the  Middle  Ages  seem,  as  1 have  already 
said,  by  the  comprehensive  and  pliable  character  of  their  works,  almost 
to  have  had  a prescience  of  the  larger  resources  of  our  own  time,  a 
thorough  review , not  only  of  all  architectural  precedents,  but  of  those 
especially  which  were  furnished  by  these  active  and  intelligent  artists, 
is  quite  indispensable,  if  we  would  make  a true  progress  and  not  hill 
behind  our  predecessors.  The  works  of  the  mediaeval  school,  at  the 
moment  of  its  first  development,  present  a cohesion  so  complete,  a 
mutual  relation  so  intimate  between  the  requirements,  the  means,  and 
the  form  or  style,  they  supply  us  with  so  many  resources  ready-made 
32 


498 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


by  which  the  peculiar  difficulties  inherent  in  modern  programmes 
may  be  resolved,  that  we  can  nowhere  else  find  precedents  better 
fitted  to  facilitate  the  task  before  us.  But  to  try  to  obtain  from  the 
good  architecture  of  Greek  or  even  of  Roman  antiquity  anything 
more  than  a few  very  simple  principles  applied  with  an  inflexible 
logic,  to  undertake  to  copy,  imitate,  or  even  to  be  inspired  by  the 
actual  forms  which  were  developed  from  these  principles,  is  volunta- 
rily to  expose  ourselves  in  our  works  to  contradictions  so  much  the 
more  offensive  as  our  requirements  become  more  complicated  and  our 
resources  more  extended.  During  the  seventeenth  century  there 
was  a prevailing  mania  for  Roman  architecture,  and  every  one  was 
willing  to  suffer  all  imaginable  inconveniences  for  the  sake  of  being 
Roman.  Not  to  incommode  Roman  art  or  to  interfere  with  its  devel- 
opment, every  one  was  ready  to  incommode  himself,  with  the  best 
faith  in  the  world.  However  unreasonable  this  passion,  and  however 
bad  its  results  may  have  been  in  the  architecture  of  that  period,  it  was 
nevertheless  a faith,  and  as  such  deserves  respect.  But  it  must  be 
confessed  that  we  are  much  more  sceptical  as  regards  art  than  people 
were' in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  there  is  no  one  in  modern  times 
so  infatuated  with  Greek  or  Roman  art  as  to  be  willing  to  sacrifice 
for  its  sake  the  least  of  his  daily  comforts  or  to  submit  to  the  slight- 
est inconvenience  in  the  cause  of  classicalism.  Why,  then,  this  con- 
stant and  bad  copying  of  antique  forms  ? What  have  we  to  do  with 
them  ? They  embarrass  the  artists,  for  they  have  not  that  pliability 
required  by  modern  programmes  ; they  are  very  expensive  ; the  pub- 
lic has  no  interest  for  or  sympathy  with  them  ; they  adapt  them- 
selves but  awkwardly  to  many  of  the  necessities  of  modern  times  ; 
their  application  and  development  encounter  constant  and  irremedi- 
able difficulties  in  our  manners,  customs,  and  habits  of  construction. 
Why,  then,  this  persistency  in  preserving  them,  or  rather  in  so  forcing 
their  application  ? Whom  do  we  please  in  thus  devoting  enormous 
sums  to  reproduce  forms  so  unreasonable  and  so  out  of  place  ? Is  it 
the  public?  They  do  not  comprehend,  and  hardly  notice  them. 
And  if  it  is  to  satisfy  some  twenty  people  we  know  of,  we  pay  a very 
high  price  for  the  imaginary  luxury  we  give  them.  Are  we  com- 
pelled to  this  course  by  respect  for  art?  If  so,  for  what  art?  For 
a false  and  denaturalized  one,  reduced  to  the  condition  of  a lan- 
guage which  no  one  understands,  and  deprived  even  of  the  benefit  of 
the  very  rules  out  of  which  the  precedents  which  we  worship  were 


THE  USE  OF  CLASSIC  PRECEDENT. 


499 


first  developed.  When  an  exact  and  faithful  imitation  of  the  Parthe- 
non was  erected  at  Montmartre,  near  Paris,  it  was  erected,  I admit, 
out  of  respect  for  art,  to  preserve  to  the  world  a type  of  eternal  beau- 
ty, the  original  of  which  had  been  mutilated  and  destroyed  ; it  was 
then  a question  of  a museum,  of  a perpetuated  text.  Cut  when  Greek 
Doric  columns  are  engaged  between  the  arches  of  a Roman  arcade 
in  the  second  story  of  a railway  terminus,  covered  with  mortar  or 
plaster  and  smoothed  down,  with  lintels  of  jointed  masonry,  there  is 
certainly  neither  reason,  utility,  common-sense,  nor  object  in  such  an 
inconsistency.  Instead  of  being  a mark  of  respect  for  art,  is  it  not 
rather  an  indication  of  disrespect  or  contempt  P Who  would  engrave 
a verse  of  Homer  upon  the  walls  of  a warehouse  ? 

We  shall  never  have  a true  modern  architecture  until  we  have 
learned  to  be  consistent,  to  appreciate  precedents  according  to  their 
relative  value,  and  everywhere  “ to  make  such  thorough  and  compre- 
hensive reviews  as  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  any  omission  ” ; until, 
in  fine,  we  shall  have  good  and  substantial  reasons  to  set  against  the 
capricious  fancies  of  amateurs,  for  reason  must,  in  the  end,  prevail 
over  all  obstacles. 

Let  us,  then,  examine  our  methods  and  the  habitual  forms  of  our 
architecture,  let  us  compare  them  with  those  of  antique  architecture, 
let  us  see  if  we  have  not  lost  our  way  and  have  not  to  retrace  our 
steps,  in  order,  at  last,  to  find  that  new  style  so  loudly  clamored  for 
by  the  very  people  who  would  shut  us  out  from  the  only  means  of 
reaching  the  desired  end. 

I will  not  in  this  connection  consider  Greek  architecture,  — al- 
though it  is  the  custom  to  steal  Greek  motives  and  apply  them  indis- 
criminately to  modern  structures,  which  have  no  relations  with  those 
of  Greece,  — but  will  proceed  at  once  to  look  into  the  architecture  of 
Rome  under  the  emperors,  which,  in  fact,  is  the  only  one  which  has 
seriously  influenced  the  design  of  our  monuments  since  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  the  only  one  which,  in  certain  particular  cases, 
can  offer  us  practical  examples.  When  I analyze  a Roman  monu- 
ment, like  the  Coliseum,  the  baths,  palaces,  theatres,  I am  at  first 
struck  by  the  powerful  rational  structure  combined  by  men  of  thor- 
ough experience.  This  construction  consists  of  masses  of  rubble  or 
brick  embedded  in  strong  mortar,  the  whole  forming  an  absolutely 
homogeneous  concretion,  with  a facing  and  sometimes  with  a base, 
as  at  the  Coliseum,  of  regular  stone  masonry.  But  although  mortar 


500 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


is  the  all-important  and  binding  element  with  the  shards,  rubble,  or 
brick  of  the  Roman  wall,  there  is  not  a particle  of  lime  in  the  joints 
of  the  masonry  ‘ which  covers  it.  Roman  structure,  therefore,  com- 
bines two  distinct  processes  : the  one  derived  from  concretions  of 
rubble  or  brick  with  cement,  like  excavations  out  of  solid  limestone  ; 
the  other,  derived  from  Etruscan  or  Greek  masonry,  which  envelops 
or  faces  this  cellular  body.  However  inartistic  the  Romans  were, 
they  never  confounded  these  two  systems  ; they  married  them  to- 
gether, but  they  never  lost  sight  of  their  respective  characteristics. 
The  Coliseum  is  but  a concretion  of  cells,  made  solid  with  cement, 
sustained  and  enveloped  with  a masonry  of  cut  stones  laid  without 
mortar;  but  this  masonry  takes  forms  suited  for  stone  construction, 
while  the  concrete  masses  only  affect  forms  proper  to  a moulded 
material.  This  mixed  system,  however,  is  not  always  admitted. 
Often,  as  in  the  baths  of  Diocletian  and  of  Antoninus  Caracalla,  or  in 
the  basilica  of  Constantine  at  Rome,  the  entire  mass  is  in  concrete, 
clothed  only  with  an  envelope  of  brick,  a single  block,  as  it  were, 
variously  hollowed,  and  finally  coated  (without  regard  to  the  construc- 
tion) with  slabs  of  marble,  encaustic  tiles,  and  mosaics.  If,  in  any 
instances,  stone  actually  participated  in  the  essential  construction,  it 
was  used  in  the  form  of  monolithic  columns  of  granite  or  marble,  or 
of  entablatures  deeply  embedded  under  the  springing  of  the  vaults, 
thus  seeming  to  give  solidity  to  the  whole  structure,  and  having 
actually  the  effect  of  correcting  and  stiffening  the  brute  and  passive 
masses  of  concrete.  But  if  the  Romans  gave  to  a rubble  pier  in  one 
of  their  great  vaulted  rooms  a section  of  twenty-four  superficial  feet, 
even  when  it  was  stiffened  and  buttressed  by  an  engaged  granite  col- 
umn, they  were  not  so  foolish  as  to  give  the  same  section  to  this  pier 
when  it  was  built  of  regular  masonry,  nor  did  they  add  to  this  stone 
pier  any  unnecessary  stiffening  of  a monolithic  column,  since,  formed 
as  it  was  of  regular  courses  laid  up  with  dry  joints,  there  was  no 
danger  of  any  settling.  Although  having  at  their  command  all  the 
financial  resources  of  the  known  world,  they  never,  in  respect  to  con- 
struction, indulged  in  any  useless  expense,  but  exercised  a wise 
economy  of  material,  and  did  honor  to  that  which  they  employed.  It 
they  built  a basilica,  to  be  covered  with  a timber  roof,  they  raised 
monolithic  columns  of  granite  on  marble  bases,  and  laid  upon  these 
columns  capitals  and  lintels  of  marble  ; they  did  not  waste  their  time 
and  money  by  laying  a solid  wall  of  masonry  upon  this  open  col- 


REVIEW  OF  THE  QUALITIES  OF  ROMAN  ART. 


501 


onnade,  hut,  forming  discharging  arches  of  brick  over  the  lintels,  so 
as  to  concentrate  the  superincumbent  weights  over  the  columns,  they 
built  tlieir  wall  above  of  concrete  or  brick,  content  with  covering 
its  inner  and  outer  surfaces  with  a facing  of  thin  marble  or  stucco. 
If  neither  marble  nor  stone  were  available,  they  either  constructed 
their  basilica  without  side  aisles,  substituting  close  walls  for  open 
walls  on  either  side  of  the  nave,  thus  avoiding  the  necessity  of  having 
columns,  or,  retaining  the  aisles,  they  built  the  side  walls  on  arcades 
of  brick  or  rubble  in  cement. 

In  fact,  we  must  see  that  the  principal  value  of  Roman  architecture 
consists  in  its  judicious  employment  of  materials  ; power  and  sagacity 
are  its  prevailing  expressions,  and  if  it  is  imposing  in  its  ruins,  it  is 
not  only  on  account  of  its  own  inherent  qualities,  but  by  reason  of  the 
evidence  it  exhibits  of  the  grandeur  of  those  who  gave  it  existence. 

Because  the  art  of  the  sixteenth  century  developed  some  charming 
fancies,  we  should  not  for  this  reason  accept  it,  as  we  do,  for  a model; 
the  architecture  of  Louis  XIV.  is  not  wanting  in  majesty  or  gran- 
deur, but  it  is  not  by  imitating  it  and  reproducing  its  characteristic 
expressions  that  we  can  compose  a style  appropriate  for  the  nine- 
teenth century.  To  obtain  a real  and  desirable  novelty,  Ave  must 
seek  for  and  adopt  with  peculiar  care  the  true  principles  of  art,  Ave 
must  classify  the  works  of  the  past  with  such  rigorous  scrutiny  as  to 
render  them  available  to  our  use  according  to  their  relative  value;  to 
this  end  Ave  must  study  and  revieAv  them  Avithout  prejudgment  for  or 
against  ; aat6  must,  once  for  all,  dismiss  the  prejudices  of  the  school 
which  is  ruining  our  art  and  which  maintains  its  predominance  only 
by  exacting  a blind  submission  to  dogmas  which  it  does  not  even 
condescend  to  explain.  I am  confident  that  in  time  Ave  can  over- 
throw the  obstacles  which  impede  the  progress  of  knoAvledge  and 
stand  in  the  Avay  of  a judicious  and  impartial  analysis  of  the  past. 
For  these  thirty  years  Iioav  many  young  artists  have  Ave  seen  los- 
ing precious  years  of  study  in  aimless  and  resultless  effort  ; and  if 
some  feAv  spirits,  more  supple,  more  happy,  or  more  favored,  have 
reached  high  positions,  what  have  they  produced  ? Affected  imita- 
tions or  confused  mixtures  of  reminiscences,  betraying,  under  a pro- 
fusion of  details,  poverty  of  invention,  absence  of  ideas,  and  an  entire 
disregard  for  any  analytical  investigation  of  precedent.  The  sum 
total  of  the  whole,  so  far  as  the  public  is  concerned,  consists  in 
incommodious  buildings  in  which  the  practical  requirements  which 


502 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


called  them  into  existence  are  neither  studied  nor  fulfilled  ; which  do 
not  appeal  to  the  sympathies  of  the  multitude  nor  educate  their  taste  ; 
which  entail  enormous  expenses,  and  create  sometimes  astonishment, 
hut  never  a genuine  admiration. 

We  have  our  faults,  buUwe  also  possess  a spirit  of  reason,  sound 
common-sense,  and  are  passionately  fond  of  variety.  But  our  quasi- 
official  architecture  is  absolutely  unreasonable  ; it  does  not  endeavor 
practically  to  meet  the  plain  necessities  in  each  case,  but  is  governed 
by  that  spirit  of  uniformity  which  is  supposed  to  be  one  of  the  ele- 
ments of  the  beautiful.  It  would  seem  that,  in  architecture,  the 
grave  Minerva  had  given  place  to  the  goddess  of  ennui,  and  that,  to 
be  truly  classic,  we  must  sacrifice  to  that  wan  divinity.  The  façades 
of  our  monuments,  symmetrical  in  spite  of  the  varied  accommoda- 
tions they  are  expected  to  give,  reproduce  a hundred  times  the  same 
column  with  the  same  capital,  the  same  window  with  the  same  dec- 
orations, the  same  arcade,  the  same  frieze  extending  along  weary 
lengths  of  monotony. 

I admit  that  the  architect  has  an  advantage  in  this,  and  that 
fools  admire  this  persistent  and  imposing  repetition  of  a fashion  ; but 
we  cannot  disguise  the  fact  that  the  public  — the  great,  active,  and 
intelligent  public  which  throngs  our  streets  — is  fatigued  at  these 
unexpressive  roods  of  architectural  repetition,  and  sighs  after  some 
accident  or  incident  to  break  what  seems  an  unmeaning  succession 
of  exaggerated  classical  perfections.  Now  it  is  worthy  of  note  that 
nothing  could  be  more  picturesque  or  more  abounding  in  agreeable 
surprises  than  the  assemblage  of  principal  buildings  in  an  ancient  city 
of  the  Greeks  or  even  of  the  Romans  ; and  that,  during  the  Middle 
Ages  and  the  Renaissance  in  Western  Europe,  a desire  for  variety 
and  individuality  of  expression  was  manifested  at  every  turn.  It  is 
owing;  to  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  that  these  traditions  have  since 
then,  under  pretext  of  majesty,  given  place  to  the  weary  monotony 
of  modern  architecture.  But  if  majesty  was  a desirable  thing  to  ex- 
press in  the  reign  of  the  great  monarch,  it  has  nothing  in  common 
with  the  manners  and  tastes  of  the  nineteenth  century.  We  no 
longer  wear  the  colossal  peruke  nor  put  the  lace  of  Alençon  on  our 
cuffs.  We  have  habits  of  comfort,  a public  and  private  hygiene 
which  do  not  accord  with  that  pomp,  that  unreasonable  ostentation, 
that  style  made  up  indiscriminately  from  precedent,  which  is  set  forth 
in  the  palaces  and  public  buildings  of  modern  times. 


MODERN  ABUSE  OE  SYMMETRY  AND  REPETITION.  503 


If  we  would  really  have  an  architecture  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
we  must,  as  a primary  consideration,  have  a care  that  it  is  indeed  our 
own,  taking  its  form  and  characteristics,  not  from  precedent,  but  from 
ourselves.  We  should  get  a thorough  knowledge  of  the  formation  of 
anterior  styles,  but  this  knowledge  should  be  accompanied  by  a spirit 
of  intelligent  discrimination  and  criticism.  We  should  not  use  our 
knowledge  like  pedants,  but  like  persons  who,  having  ideas  of  their 
own,  are  choice  in  the  language  with  which  they  would  express  them. 
We  should  above  all  endeavor  to  forget  those  conventionalities  and 
commonplaces,  which,  with  a persistency  worthy  of  a more  noble  ob- 
ject, have  been  reiterated  for  the  last  two  hundred  years  as  if  they 
were  the  only  utterance  of  architecture. 

The  art  we  seek  should  be  under  the  control  of  an  harmonic 
system,  a pervading  spirit  of  unity,  but  sufficiently  elastic  to  be  a 
faithful  monumental  record  of  the  modifications  and  results  of  pro- 
gress as  they  take  their  places  in  history  ; it  should  be  untrammelled 
by  such  purely  conventional  formulas  as  are  applied  to  the  orders, 
for  example,  or  as  are  derived  from  what  are  called  the  laws  of  sym- 
metry. 

Symmetry  is  no  more  a general  law  of  architecture  than  equality 
is  a law  of  society.  We  admit  the  equality  of  all  before  the  law,  but 
equality  is  not  the  law,  for  we  cannot  recognize  an  equality  of  in- 
tellect, talent,  physical  force,  or  wealth  among  all  the  members  of 
society.  In  fact,  symmetry,  accepted  as  a general,  dominating  law 
in  art,  is  a sort  of  communism,  which  enervates  art  and  debases  those 
who  practise  it. 

It  is  considered  a mark  of  respect  for  art  to  require  an  architect  to 
make  a block  of  buildings  after  one  pattern,  and  to  pierce  his  facade 
with  the  same  kind  of  windows,  without  regard  to  the  various  charac- 
ters of  the  rooms  within  to  which  they  belong  ; but,  in  so  doing,  in- 
stead of  proving  yourself  a lover  of  art,  you  are  really  its  executioner  ; 
you  stifle  its  most  noble  quality,  which  is  its  perfect  freedom.  There 
can  be  no  art  without  freedom  ; for  art  is  the  expression  of  ideas, 
and  what  kind  of  ideas  do  you  express  when  you  are  constrained  to 
say  nothing  but  what  your  neighbor  says,  or  to  call  that  white  which 
you  see  is  black  ? 

Municipal  regulations,  forbidding  the  erection  of  buildings  above 
a certain  height  or  fixing  the  amount  of  projection  allowed  beyond 
the  street  line,  are  reasonable  and  proper  ; but  if  these  regulations 


504 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


should  require  twenty  different  architects  to  adopt  in  twenty  different 
buildings  the  same  cornice-profile,  the  same  style  of  window,  or  the 
same  heights  of  string-courses,  under  pretence  of  symmetry,  when  the 
interior  of  each  of  these  houses  has  its  own  individual  characteristics 
in  its  arrangement  of  rooms,  they  certainly  would  not  be  justifiable. 
But  if  municipal  authority  should  ever  be  stretched  to  such  a deplor- 
able point  as  this,  the  architects  would  have  nobody  to  blame  for  it  but 
themselves,  in  having  set  the  example  by  practising  under  doctrines 
which  recognize  such  absurdities,  and  by  reducing  architecture  to  the 
condition  of  a vulgar  formula  which  any  one  can  employ  mechanically 
and  without  effort  of  reason. 

Although,  however,  we  cannot  find  in  symmetry  the  qualities  which 
constitute  a law,  there  are  certain  cases  in  which  it  is  satisfactory,  and 
this  is  the  most  that  can  be  said  about  it  ; but,  on  the  other  hand, 
harmony  and  balance  of  parts  or  pondération  are  laws  which  should 
be  understood  and  applied  in  architecture. 

Some  of  the  harmonic  laws  of  proportions  have  been  already  ex- 
plained ; and  the  most  beautiful  buildings  of  antiquity,  or  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  illustrate  those  of  balance  ; but  balance  is  not  symmetry, 
as  it  admits  of  variety.  We  do  not  put  similar  things  in  opposite 
sides  of  the  scale,  precisely  because  they  are  similar.  A statement 
of  requirements  to  be  fulfilled  in  a building,  if  interpreted  strictly 
with  regard  to  convenience,  usually  results  in  an  irregular  plan,  and 
it  is  the  duty  of  the  artist  to  see  that  this  irregular  plan  presents 
well-balanced  elevations  ; or,  in  other  words,  that  it  does  not  appear 
“ one-sided,”  lame,  or  incomplete. 

Let  us  suppose,  for  example,  that  we  have  to  build  a small  town 
hall,  including  on  the  ground-floor  a few  offices,  and  in  the  principal 
story  a great  room,  the  whole  surmounted  by  a belfry.  It  is  evident 
that  if  I place  the  belfry-tower  in  the  axis  of  the  façade  for  the  sake 
of  symmetry,  I must  either  cut  the  great  room  in  halves  or  have 
recourse  to  some  complicated,  expensive,  and  dishonest  construction, 
— for  dishonesty  in  architecture  is  apt  to  be  expensive.  I propose  to 
be  more  frank.  I place  the  tower  at  one  of  the  extremities  of  the 
building,  using  its  lower  story  as  a vestibule,  as  represented  in  the 
plan  (Fig.  107)  ; within,  at  A,  I build  the  staircase  ; at  B,  I arrange 
the  offices  and  cabinet  of  the  mayor,  etc.  On  the  principal  floor 
above  I avail  myself  of  the  tower  chamber  above  the  porch  as  a wait- 
ing-room, and  find  the  rest  of  the  story  readily  adapted  for  a large, 


BALANCE  OF  PARTS. 


505 


well-lighted  hall.  In  the  roof  I place  the  store-rooms  and  archives. 
Having  settled  thus  upon  the  most  convenient  disposition  for  my 
plan,  I proceed,  in  the  elevation  C,  to  give  due  value  and  expression 
to.  my  tower,  which  must  he  a massive,  solid  structure,  flanking  one 
of  the  extremities  of  the  building  and  rising  above  it.  Then  I must 


Pig.  107. 


proceed  to  provide  for  the  ample  lighting  of  my  hall  by  windows, 
and  so  to  treat  the  angles  D of  the  façade  opposite  the  tower  that 
they  shall  present  features  of  weight  and  solidity  to  oppose  the  thrusts 
of  the  large  discharging  arches  which  I find  it  necessary  to  throw  over 


50G 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


these  principal  windows  ; I therefore,  on  each  angle  of  the  gable-end, 
erect  a corner  turret,  to  serve  as  a buttress  or  vertical  weight.  In 
thus  treating  this  gable-end  I balance  the  façade,  although  it  is  by  no 
means  symmetrical.  The  eye  instinctively  perceives  that  the  angle 
on  the  left  occupied  by  the  tower  is  not  only  higher  than  the  rest,  but 
especially  solid  and  massive;  that  the  part  pierced  by  the  large  win- 
dows has  no  unnecessary  weight  to  carry  ; and  that  this  façade  is  ter- 
minated at  its  other  extremity  by  a weight  acting  vertically.  This  is 
not  symmetry,  but  balance,  — an  end  the  more  perfectly  obtained  if  we 
can  manage  that  the  length  a b of  the  whole  façade  shall  be  to  the 
height  et  c of  the  tower  wall  as  the  length  eb  of  the  façade  without 
the  tower  is  to  the  height  d b of  the  masonry  of  the  corner  turrets. 

Again  : I have  a square  building  to  erect  ; it  is  composed  of  four 
ranges  or  wings  around  a square  court  in  the  centre  ; the  ground  to  be 

Fig.  108. 


occupied  by  the  structure  is  sloping,  the  angle  A (Tig.  1 OS)  of  the 
plan  being  much  lower  than  the  other  three  angles  B,  B,  B.  It  is 
necessary  to  construct  somewhere  in  the  building  an  extra  story,  form- 
ing a sort  of  belvidere  or  tower;  this  must  be  placed,  not  in  the 
middle  of  one  of  the  façades,  but  on  the  angle  A (see  perspective  ele- 
vation), where  the  ground  falls  away  most,  because  the  eye  requires 
that  the  extra  story  shall  be  placed  where  the  character  of  the  site 
renders  the  greatest  solidity  and  strength  necessary.  Thus  the  struc- 
ture is  balanced,  which,  under  the  specified  conditions,  would  not  be 
the  case  with  any  other  disposition  of  the  tower.  - 

If  we  look  at  the  paintings  or  ruins  of  those  groups  of  domestic 


BALANCE  OE  PARTS. 


507 


buildings  known  as  the  villas  of  antiquity,  we  shall  be  struck  by  the 
delicacy  of  observation  exhibited  by  their  architects  with  respect  to 
the  balance  of  masses.  And  the  same  quality  is  especially  remark- 
able in  the  castles,  abbeys,  hospitals,  and  even  town  houses  of  medi- 
æval  times.  These  buildings  are  attached  solidly  to  the  ground,  and 
by  the  composition  of  their  masses  attract  the  eye  and  gratify  the 
mind.  The  house  of  Jaques  Cœur  at  Bourges,  that  of  Cluny  at 
Paris,  and,  in  fact,  all  the  old  feudal  castles  including  some  much 
more  recent,  such  as  Blois,  Chenonceaux,  Ecouen,  Azay-le-Rideau,  are 
excellent  examples  of  the  application  of  this  principle.  They  owe 
their  peculiar  charms,  not  to  any  symmetrical  arrangements  of  their 
parts,  but  to  the  balance  of  these  parts.  To  obtain  this  effect  of  bal- 
ance is,  I admit,  much  more  difficult  than  to  continue  the  lines  and 
indefinitely  to  repeat  the  features  of  a building  for  the  sake  of  obtain- 
ing an  effect  of  uniformity  ; but  it  is  art,  and  it  can  never  be  proved 
of  art,  that  to  be  simple  and  easy  is  to  be  beautiful. 


Fig.  109. 


But  the  architects  of  antiquity  and  of  the  Middle  Ages  extended 
the  application  of  the  laws  of  balance  to  the  composition  of  details. 
Two  examples  will  suffice  to  exhibit  the  fine  intelligence  they  dis- 
played in  this  respect.  Fig.  109  exhibits  the  usual  arrangement  of 
mouldings  at  the  lower  angle  of  a Greek  pediment.  The  level  corona 
or  larmier  A,  crowned  by  a fillet,  is  repeated  at  B,  where  it  slopes 
above  the  tympanum,  and  the  whole  is  surmounted  by  a cymatium  C, 
which  returns  around  the  lower  angle  to  form  the  upper  member  of 
the  level  entablature  along  the  sides  of  the  building.  Whatever  re- 
spect we  may  profess  for  Greek  architecture,  it  must  be  confessed  that 
there  is  a grave  error  in  the  manner  in  which  the  sloping  and  level 
members  meet  at  the  lower  angle  of  the  pediment,  the  necessary  dis- 


DISCOURSES  OX  ARCHITECTURE. 


508 


position  of  masonry,  suggested  at  the  joint  a,  to  stop  the  apparent 
tendency  of  the  moulding  C to  slip  down  the  slope  of  the  pediment, 
being  in  contradiction  to  the  arrangement  of  architectural  lines  at 
that  point.  The  delicate  sentiment  of  the  Greek  artists  must  have 
been  offended  at  this  meagreness  and  weakness  of  effect,  for,  in  order 
to  counteract  it  as  far  as  possible,  and  to  reassure  the  eye,  they  often 
placed  upon  the  lower  extremity  of  the  cymatium  a little  acroterium 
b,  crowned  by  an  ornament  or  figure,  in  order  to  give  an  appearance 
of  weight  or  resistance.  But  the  architects  of  the  thirteenth  century 
remedied  this  difficulty  more  frankly  and  more  honestly  by  such  com- 

Fig.  no. 


binations  as  not  only  marked  emphatically  the  return  of  the  mould- 
ings around  the  corner,  but  gave  and  expressed  the  necessary  strength 
and  weight  required  at  this  point,  as  may  be  seen  on  reference  to 
Fig.  110.  This  is  a perfectly  reasonable  method  of  giving  an  ap- 
pearance of  solidity  to  the  foot  of  the  gable  ; we  can  imagine 
that  the  other  angle  is  strengthened  by  a tower  or  staircase  turret, 
but  even  then  the  eye  would  not  be  less  content  with  the  neatness 
and  ease  with  which  the  sloping  gable  is  stopped  by  the  Gothic 
acroterium. 

In  fact,  balance  may  be  defined  as  the  art  of  giving  an  effect  of 


SINCERITY  AND  TRUTH  OF  EXPRESSION. 


509 


completeness  without  the  aid  of  symmetry  ; but  when  the  archi- 
tect’s resources  are  such  as  to  afford  him  no  other  means  of  ob- 
taining this  effect  but  symmetry,  his  art  becomes  like  one  of  those 
trades  whose  perfection  consists  in  marvellous  exactness  of  repeti- 
tion. If,  therefore,  the  laws  of  symmetry,  being  mechanical,  are  not, 
properly  speaking,  applicable  to  the  art  of  architecture,  we  have  seen, 
on  the  other  hand,  that  the  best  architects  of  antiquity  and  of  the 
Middle  Ages  respected  and  obeyed  the  laws  of  balance.  These  laws 
of  balance,  like  those  of  proportion,  are  nothing  more  than  the  appar- 
ent expression  of  the  laws  of  statics. 

Geometry  and  calculation,  then,  are  the  fundamental  bases  of  the 
art;  by  building  upon  such  bases,  we  can  escape  the  pitiable  vulgarity 
of  mere  classicism,  and,  indeed,  if  our  civil  engineers,  who  are  accus- 
tomed to  nice  calculations  and  who  are  excellent  geometers,  concerned 
themselves  less  with  unreasonably  reproducing  in  their  works  classic 
forms,  and  contented  themselves  with  the  simplest,  most  economical, 
and  most  unaffected  manifestation  of  their  construction,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  they  would  produce  some  remarkable  results,  as  seen  from 
a purely  artistic  point  of  view  ; for  a faithful  observance  of  the  laws 
of  statics,  developed  by  calculation  and  geometry,  must  lead  to  sin- 
cerity and  truth  of  expression,  and  whenever  these  qualities  control 
a work  of  art,  it  instinctively  charms  both  the  cultivated  and  the 
uncultivated  mind.  Although  the  public  taste  has  been  led  astray 
by  the  universal  habit  of  insincerity  or  falsehood  in  architectural 
works,  it  is  nevertheless  invariably  attracted  by  a true  work,  which 
appears  what  it  really  is.  Everything  which  explains  itself  must 
have  such  qualities  of  fitness  as  to  recommend  it  to  the  approbation 
of  the  beholder.  By  using  such  forms  as  shall  most  naturally  and 
inartificially  express  the  qualities  and  capacities  of  the  materials  we 
employ,  by  using  cast-iron  forms  for  cast-iron  and  wrought-iron  forms 
for  wrought-iron,  by  having  appropriate  distinctions  of  treatment  for 
a form  of  granite,  of  sandstone,  of  marble,  of  brick,  and  of  wood,  we 
shall  not  only  open  a vast  and  inexhaustible  field  for  variety  and 
novelty  of  design,  but  must  at  last  succeed  in  attracting  the  sympathy 
and  appreciation  of  the  public  for  an  art  which,  by  its  false  and 
arbitrary  standards  of  criticism,  has  so  long  been  alienated  from 
them.  If  the  people  have  been  misled  in  matters  of  taste,  is  it  not 
plainly  the  privilege  and  duty  of  the  artist  to  enlighten  them,  and  is 
it  not  the  extreme  of  stupid  folly  to  go  on  multiplying  known  and 


510 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


acknowledged  errors  ? The  first  rule  which,  men  of  good  breeding 
impose  upon  themselves  is  not  to  lie  ; how  then  is  it  with  artists, 
who  every  day  accumulate  lie  upon  lie  in  their  works  P The  word  is 
coarse,  indeed,  but  the  crime  which  it  stigmatizes  is  deserving  of  it. 

{ The  modern  architecture,  which  is  called  classic,  is  a lie,  while  one 
of  the  most  lovely  qualities  of  that  architecture,  whose  traditions  it 
claims  to  perpetuate,  is  honesty,  both  with  regard  to  the  material  and 
the  manner  in  which  the  material  was  employed.  It  is  true,  if  we 
have  immense  resources  at  our  disposal,  we  can,  by  the  exercise  of 
great  care,  so  use  this  pompous  style  as  to  avoid  actual  deceit  ; but, 
when  our  means  are  limited,  to  what  falsehoods  is  the  architect  driven 
in  order  to  obtain  that  pompous  effect  which  is  alone  recognized  as 
classic  ! What  columns  and  cornices  of  plaster  ! What  beams  of 
wood  imitating  lintels  of  stone  ! What  ceilings,  painted  and  formed 
to  appear  like  the  work  of  the  carpenter  and  the  cabinet-maker  ! 
What  imitations  of  marble  in  stucco,  of  sculpture  in  moulded  paste, 
of  vaults  of  stone  in  vaults  of  lath  and  plaster  ! In  all  this  architec- 
ture the  great  and  only  aim  is  to  deceive,  to  appear  what  it  is  not. 

But,  without  descending  so  low  as  this,  although  in  practice  we 
make  the  descent  far  too  often,  Ave  have  only  to  glance  at  some  of  our 
most  important  and  most  costly  modern  structures  to  see  that  the 
masonry  is  rarely  in  accord  with  the  architectural  detail,  and  that  the 
courses  of  stone  do  not  coincide  with  the  horizontal  lines  of  architec- 
ture; * so  that,  after  a few  years,  when  each  stone  has  become  defined 
by  some  difference  of  tint,  the  disaccord  between  the  joints  of  con- 
struction and  the  style  of  architecture  becomes  painfully  apparent; 
Ave  see  the  joints  of  flat  arches  betraying  the  false  lintel;  Ave  see 
arch-stones  not  confined  to  the  arch  mouldings,  but  passing  beyond 
them  and  making  their  Avay  into  the  tympana  and  spandrels  above  ; 
Ave  see  the  sculpture  of  bas-reliefs  cut  this  way  and  that  by  joints  of 
masonry  ; Ave  see  copies  of  the  great  open  bays  and  arches  of  the 
Romans  entirely  losing  their  effect  by  being  closed  in  Avith  glazed 
sashes  ; Ave  see  staircases  passing  across  Avindows,  and  stories,  Avliich 
on  the  exterior  appear  single,  cut  in  two  in  the  interior  by  floors; 
Ave  see  roofs  concealed  behind  aoroteria  ; iron  floors,  covered  on  their 
under  surfaces  Avith  plaster  to  give  the  effect  of  Avooden  ceilings  ; 


* The  modern  habit  in  Paris  is  to  lay  up  the  stone  “ in  the  rough,”  and  afterwards  to  cut  and 
trim  it  into  architectural  fonns,  often  without  regard  to  the  proper  coincidence  between  the 
joints  of  the  masonry  and  the  finished  detail.  — Translator. 


MODERN  INSINCERITY  AND  INCONGRUITY. 


511 


enormous  rooms  from  thirty  to  sixty  feet  high  lighted  by  several 
ranges  of  windows  so  as  on  the  exterior  to  have  the  effect  of  being 
divided  into  several  stories  ; we  see  wood  painted  in  imitation  of 
stone  or  marble,  and  stone  to  appear  like  wood  ; in  the  interior  we 
see  as  many  false  doors  as  true,  so  that  the  stranger  is  puzzled  to 
know  which  to  open,  and  enormous  chimneys  to  accommodate  the 
smallest  fires.  What  other  name  than  lies  can  we  give  to  such 
things  ? 

If  we  wish  seriously  to  discover  an  architecture,  the  first  condition 
to  observe  is  to  avoid  deceit,  not  only  in  respect  to  the  general  design, 
but  in  the  least  details  of  the  edifice  we  are  to  construct.  In  fact, 
to  such  a condition  has  the  present  practice  of  architecture  reduced 
us,  that  any  architect  who  should  be  enabled  to  design  and  carry 
out  a work  with  absolute  sincerity  would  produce  a very  novel  and 
probably  a very  interesting  building;  more  than  this,  he  would  be 
really  classic  in  the  sense  of  submitting  himself  to  the  same  invariable 
laws  of  art  as  controlled  the  development  of  the  best  styles  of  antiq- 
uity.  Having  at  our  disposal  new  materials,  machinery  until  now 
unknown,  enlarged  resources,  requirements  much  more  complicated 
than  those  with  which  the  ancients  had  to  deal  in  their  architecture, 
having  an  extensive  knowledge  of  precedent  in  its  development  under 
various  civilizations,  — if  to  all  this  we  should  add  sincerity,  in 
fulfilling  to  the  letter  the  requirements  we  are  to  satisfy,  and  in  using 
our  materials  honestly  and  wisely;  if  we  should  avail  ourselves  also 
of  the  discoveries  of  science  and  pay  especial  heed  to  the  suggestions 
of  common-sense,  trying  above  all  to  forget  false  doctrines  and  to  lay 
aside  all  prejudice  and  caprice,  — we  might  then  hope  at  least  to  lay 
the  foundations  of  a true  architecture  of  the  nineteenth  century,  al- 
though perhaps  we  must  leave  to  our  successors  the  task  of  develop- 
ing it  to  completion. 

But  in  addition  to  the  laws  already  indicated  as  applicable  to  archi- 
tectural composition,  there  is  yet  another  no  less  important,  which 
in  modern  practice  is  almost  entirely  neglected  ; it  touches  pure  art, 
and  may  be  distinguished  as  the  law  of  conrjruity.  Thus,  to  give  to 
a dwelling  raised  upon  shop-fronts,  which  entirely  destroy  the  effect 
of  a basement,  the  façade  of  a palace  ; to  decorate  it  with  Corinthian 
pilasters  which  have  no  better  resting-place  than  glass  sashes,  behind 
which  are  displayed  dry-goods  or  hats  and  caps,  is  an  evident  offence 
against  this  law.  To  build  in  the  same  city  and  at  the  same  moment 


512 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


a church  in  the  Gothic  manner,  a second  after  the  Renaissance,  a 
third  in  a pseudo-Byzantine  style,  is  also,  as  far  as  art  is  concerned, 
an  indication  of  a general  disregard  for  congruity,  or  fitness  ; for, 
apart  from  considerations  of  the  difference  between  religious  sects  and 
forms  of  worship,  it  would  be  difficult  to  explain  how,  in  a healthy 
state  of  architectural  art,  the  same  sect  can  be  accommodated  equally 
well  in  churches  entirely  dissimilar  in  motive,  style,  and  treatment. 
The  question  then  is,  which  is  the  more  Catholic  or  which  the  more 
Protestant,  a Byzantine  church,  a Renaissance  church,  or  a neo-Gothic 
church,  and  why  should  one  be  more  Catholic  or  Protestant  than  the 
others  ? To  make  the  classic  façade  of  a municipal  office  simulate 
that  of  an  ancient  Gothic  church  built  en  pendant  ; to  make  a little 
theatre,  next  a great  parish  church,  appear  like  a detached  fragment 
of  the  church  ; to  crown  a court-house  with  a cupola  like  that  of  a 
mosque,  — all  these  things,  which  have  lately  been  done  in  the  capi- 
tal of  Trance,  indicate  a prevailing  disregard,  or,  at  least,  an  igno- 
rance of  that  law  of  congruity  which  must  be  strictly  observed 
wherever  there  is  true  art. 

The  same  law  extends,  in  its  application,  to  all  the  details  of  a 
building,  and  its  observance  is  seen  in  the  proper  subordination  of 
parts.  Thus,  if  all  the  means  necessary  to  indicate  richness  are 
exhausted  upon  an  accessory  of  a great  palace,  subordination  of  parts 
is  disregarded,  and  the  principal  mass  of  the  structure  must  suffer  in 
proportion  ; if  all  the  resources  of  art  and  material  are  lavished  upon 
the  staircase,  the  apartments  to  which  the  staircase  is  an  approach 
must  appear  incongruous.  In  like  manner  we  offend  against  the 
laws  of  congruity  when  we  establish  along  the  fronts  of  our  city  or 
country  houses  great  porticos  not  intended  for  public  use,  and  exclud- 
ing needful  light  from  the  rooms  which  open  upon  them  ; also,  when, 
behind  elaborate  façades  of  stone,  sculptured  at  great  cost,  we  cover 
the  interior  Avith  wall-papers  representing  sculpture  in  wood,  marble, 
or  bronze,  and  when  the  interior  decoration  affects  a style  not  in 
accordance  with  that  observed  in  the  exterior. 

The  architect,  in  decorating,  should  never  lose  sight  of  these  prin- 
ciples of  gradation  and  subordination.  HoAvever  ample  the  means 
placed  in  his  hands,  he  should  never  lavish  all  the  richness  ot  design 
at  his  command  upon  the  vestibule  or  the  facade  ; the  great  value  of 
richness  of  design  being  not  in  itself,  but  in  its  fitness  for  its  place, 
not  only  in  contrast  with  other  places,  but  in  its  subordination  to  the 


MODERN  MISUSE  OE  DECORATION. 


513 


main  architectural  lines  or  surfaces  which  it  decorates.  It  is  notice- 
able that,  after  their  first  astonishment  at  the  decorations  of  our  pala- 
tial interiors,  the  public  soon  weary  and  lose  their  interest  in  them, 
because  these  decorations  present  a mass  of  ornaments,  gilding,  and 
painting,  concealing  almost  always  a poor  composition  or  a common- 
place idea,  carelessly  studied  proportions,  or  incongruous  masses. 
They  are  a mere  varnish  laid  upon  a vulgar  object,  an  embroidery 
bedizening  an  ungraceful  shape.  Clothe  a deformed  man  as  youN 
will,  you  can  never  give  him  a noble  bearing.  It  is  the  same  in 
architecture.  When,  by  means  of  carving  and  gilding,  you  endeavor 
to  distract  attention  from  a troublesome  assemblage  of  lines,  a disa- 
greeable proportion,  a vulgar  form,  you  effect  no  higher  object  than 
the  momentary  amusement  of  the  multitude.  Such  decoration  leaves 
upon  the  mind  but  a confused  impression,  and  often  causes  such  a 
thorough  dislike  for  splendor  so  ill  used,  that  a simple  square  cham- 
ber with  smooth  whitewashed  Avails  would  be  a grateful  relief.  In 
fact,  nothing  leads  to  satiety  in  the  arts  more  readily  than  an  over- 
loaded or  abused  ornamentation,  especially  when  it  is  not  applied  to 
a form  in  itself  beautiful.  Art  cannot  approach  absolute  sterility 
more  nearly  than  by  such  an  abuse  of  its  instruments.  It  is  onlv 
lines  combined  with  skill  and  feeling,  only  forms  easy  to  understand, 
only  broad  and  massive  treatment,  which  can  produce  a profound  im- 
pression and  elevate  an  idea  to  the  dignity  of  a work  of  art.  In  this 
respect  the  ancients  are  our  masters.  So  long  as  Ave  disregard  these 
principles,  Ave  have  no  right  to  boast  of  being  their  pupils  ; and  so 
long  as  Ave  continue  to  borrow  from  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.  some  of 
its  tinsel,  without  reproducing  that  feeling  for  form  of  Avhich  some 
traces  still  lingered  even  in  that  era,  Ave  have  no  right  to  cover  up  our 
short-comings  under  the  cloak  of  what  Ave  'call  respectable  traditions  ; 
the  public,  weary  of  the  gilded  rags  which  cover  such  wretched 
bodies,  weary  of  an  art  which  has  neither  distinction  nor  choice,  Avili 
soon  demand  a return  even  to  those  pale  cold  copies  of  antiquity  so 
much  in  vogue  at  the  beginning  of  the  century,  but  Avhich  at  least 
had  the  courage  to  expose  their  own  nakedness  and  sterility,  and  did 
not  conceal  their  emptiness  of  conception  under  a fictitious  splendor 
stolen  from  a feAV  old  houses  of  the  faubourg  St.  Germain. 

This  Discourse,  then,  is  intended  to  embrace  the  conditions  under 
Avhich  the  true  architect  is  developed  ; these  conditions  include,  as  Ave 
have  seen,  method  in  the  study  of  architectural  precedents,  and  the 
33 


514 


DISCOURSES  ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


submission  of  the  results  of  this  study  to  the  chastisement  of  reason  ; 
they  include  certain  laws  for  the  government  of  the  architect  in  de- 
sign,— laws  which  are  either  purely  mathematical  or  purely  æsthetical. 
The  first  are  the  corollaries  of  statics,  and  belong  exclusively  to  con- 
struction ; the  last  relate  to  proportion,  the  observation  of  effects,  dec- 
oration, and  certain  proprieties  of  expression  to  be  observed  in  respect 
to  the  requirements  we  are  called  upon  to  satisfy  and  the  means  by 
which  we  are  to  satisfy  them. 

Archaeological  studies  have  demonstrated  that  every  epoch  of  art 
had  its  peculiar  style,  that  is  to  say,  a harmony,  a unity  in  the  con- 
ception of  the  whole  and  in  the  execution  of  the  parts.  There  has 
never  been,  and  there  can  never  be,  an  art  outside  of  these  fundamental 
conditions.  It  remains  for  us  either  to  adopt  one  of  these  known 
styles  or  to  form  a new  one.  If  we  would  form  out  of  these  various 
styles  an  amalgam,  the  archaeologists  will  analyze  our  mixture  and 
will  demonstrate  to  us  in  the  most  logical  way  that-  it  is  composed 
of  contradictory  elements  cancelling  and  embarrassing  one  another. 
That  which  we  call  eclecticism  in  art,  the  appropriation  of  various  and 
contradictory  elements  to  the  composition  of  a new  art,  is,  after  all, 
mere  barbarism.  The  experiment  was  tried  in  the  epoch  between 
the  fall  of  the  arts  of  antiquity  and  the  advent  of  the  lay  school  of 
architects  of  the  twelfth  century.  When  the  Romanesque  architects 
of  the  eleventh  century  took  their  plan  from  the  Romans,  their  details 
from  the  East,  their  cupola  from  the  Byzantines,  their  timber  work 
from  the  races  of  the  North,  and  used  with  all  this  the  debris  of  the 
old  monuments  of  the  empire,  there  was  no  one  with  authority  to 
mark  and  to  explain  on  philosophical  principles  the  conflicting  char- 
acter of  the  elements  thus  combined.  But  we  are  too  learned  now 
to  repeat  the  experiment  with  any  prospects  ol  success  ; we  can  no 
longer  make  such  mixtures  of  styles  with  that  simplicity,  innocence, 
or  good  faith,  which  at  that  time  could  apply,  as  it  were,  an  harmo- 
nious varnish  over  the  most  heterogeneous  combinations  ; indeed, 
ignorance  alone  is  capable  of  giving  body  and  wholeness  to  such  a 
confusion  of  elements.  But  now  that  science  is  competent  to  classify 
these  elements,  the  power  of  so  mixing  them  as  to  obtain  any  concrete 
result  is  taken  away  from  us.  Inasmuch  as  we  are  aware  that  at 
the  bottom  of  all  these  various  styles  there  are  two  or  three  principles 
with  a very  limited  number  of  ideas  derived  from  each,  to  undertake 
to  conciliate  these  principles  in  the  same  expression  of  art,  or  to  over-' 


TRUE  USE  OF  ARCHAEOLOGY. 


515 


look  the  fact  that  the  ideas  we  perceive  in  antique  art  were  derived 
from  these  principles,  is  to  go  back  into  barbarism  with  our  eyes 
wide  open. 

It  would  be  folly  to  undertake  to  oppose  archæological  studies,  for 
they  are  probably  destined  to  serve  as  the  solid  basis  of  modern  art  ; 
yet,  inasmuch  as  archaeology  seems  lately  to  have  influenced  rather 
the  material  than  the  intellectual  side  of  art,  we  should  take  care 
that  they  are  not  so  misdirected  as  to  become  dangerous.  If  we 
would  obtain  substantial  profit  from  the  study  of  the  past,  we  should 
not  occupy  ourselves  with  such  trivial  questions  as  whether  the  met- 
opes of  a certain  temple  were  colored  blue  or  red,  whether  the  grilles 
of  bronze  were  engraved  with  silver,  whether  the  eyes  of  such  a 
statue  were  inerusted  with  enamel  or  with  precious  stones  ; Ave  should 
rather  study  to  comprehend  the  reasons  Avhy  such  a method  of  dec- 
oration Avas  adopted,  and  to  obtain  a broad  and  clear  idea  of  those 
civilizations  which  manifest  themselves  to  us  in  the  few  expressions 
of  art  which  Ave  are  seeking  to  decipher.  The  infinite  and  puerile 
details  to  which  the  study  of  antiquity  and  of  the  Middle  Ages  is 
noAv  chiefly  directed  cause  us  too  often  to  lose  sight  of  the  principal 
advantage  to  be  derived  from  such  study,  namely,  the  inferences 
of  humanity,  its  efforts  and  tendencies,  and  the  means  Avhich  men 
have  employed  at  various  eras  of  the  world’s  history  to  express  their 
thoughts,  their  taste,  and  their  genius.  It  is  of  very  little  importance 
for  us  to  knoAv  the  precise  composition  of  the  pomades  used  by  Greek 
and  Roman  ladies,  but  it  is  of  great  importance  to  us  to  understand 
their  social  and  domestic  condition,  the  employment  of  their  leisure, 
the  culture  of  their  minds.  I shall  not  find  fault  Avith  historical 
painters  for  knoAving  hoAV  many  strings  of  pearls  the  satraps  carried 
around  their  necks,  and  whether  they  Avore  shoes,  socks,  or  san- 
dals, provided  it  has  been  first  ascertained  Avhat  a satrap  really  Avas. 
Archæological  studies  Avili  be  profitable  to  the  arts  provided  they  suc- 
ceed in  developing  ruling  principles,  the  causes  and  the  logical  order 
of  facts  ; and  Avhen,  in  the  course  of  these  investigations,  our  attention 
is  attracted  by  mere  details  and  minor  consequences,  Ave  certainly 
should  not  give  them  more  importance  than  is  justly  their  due  in 
the  history  of  mankind,  neither  should  Ave  neglect  or  lay  them  aside 
as  entirely  umvorthy  of  notice;  they  should  be  classified  methodi- 
cally, according  to  their  bearing  upon  the  more  vital  points  at  issue. 
In  a word,  the  true  part  of  archaeology  should  not  be  to  restrict  the 


510 


DISCOUESES  ON  A EC  H ITECTU  EE . 


spirit  of  the  artist,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  enlarge  it  by  teaching 
him  the  nature  of  those  great  invariable  principles  which  must  al- 
ways control  intellectual  effort. 

But  the  great  question  of  this  nineteenth  century,  that  which  daily 
assumes  increased  importance  and  must  in  the  end  predominate  over 
all  others,  is  the  matter  of  expense,  the  financial  question.  The 
more  prosperous  society  becomes  and  the  more  abundant  the  wealth 
of  nations,  the  stronger  is  the  tendency  of  mankind  to  employ  their 
resources  judiciously  ; useless  expenses  offend  the  public  sentiment. 
As  civilization  advances,  every  individual  of  a community  has  a 
greater  interest  in  the  commonwealth,  better  appreciates  the  value 
of  tilings,  and  is  more  sensitive  to  the  improper  employment  of  the 
public  resources.  In  a word,  the  people  complain  not  of  a profuse 
but  of  a misdirected  use  of  the  public  moneys.  Now,  in  all  modern 
civilized  nations  public  buildings  must  occupy  a conspicuous  position 
in  the  list  of  appropriations  ; it  is  therefore  not  only  necessary  that 
these  buildings  should  be  useful,  good,  and  beautiful,  but  that  they 
should  not  exceed  their  estimates.  A wise  political  economy  requires 
that  no  public  enterprise  should  be  undertaken  before  the  cost  is 
counted  and  the  details  and  causes  of  expenditure  known.  It  is  to 
be  feared  that  architecture  is  scarcely  in  a condition  at  present  to 
satisfy  this  reasonable  condition.  Among  the  curious  contradictions 
in  which  our  era  abounds,  there  is  one  very  remarkable  phenomenon. 
Statesmen  are  very  apt  to  think,  if  they  do  not  say,  that  a passion  for 
building  is  ruinous  to  the  country,  and  that  it  would  be  the  wisest 
economy  to  erect,  for  all  public  purposes,  the  plainest  kind  of  barracks 
warranted  to  last  for  fifty  years.  They  are  not  unnaturally  frightened 
at  the  enormous  sums  lavished  for  buildings  whose  destination  is  not 
perfectly  defined  and  which  affect  certain  costly  forms'  of  architecture 
which  cannot  lie  explained  by  any  considerations  of  propriety.  In 
their  eyes,  the  architect  is  an  enemy  of  the  public  wealth,  a conspira- 
tor against  the  treasury.  On  the  other  hand,  the  architects  who  are 
fostered  and  protected  by  government  are  so  educated  as  fully  to 
justify  this  common  distrust,  since  they  are  never  taught  the  admin- 
istration of  works,  nor  the  judicious  use  of  materials,  nor  the  proper 
adjustment  of  architectural  forms  and  methods  of  construction  to  the 
practical  requirements  it  is  their  business  to  satisfy.  Thus,  in  one 
corner  of  Paris  the  state  brings  up  young  architects  who,  in  another 
corner,  are  entirely  distrusted.  The  state  blames  its  own  architects 


TRUE  ECONOMY. 


517 


for  ignorance  on  those  points  which  are  entirely  neglected  in  its  own 
schools.  Now  it  is  worthy  of  especial  remark,  that  the  state  Avas 
never  ruined  by  building  during  those  epochs  when  architecture  Avas 
in  perfect  harmony  with  the  manners,  needs,  material  resources,  and 
necessities  of  the  time.  The  monuments  which  the  Romans  built  in 
their  provinces,  far  from  ruining  them,  contributed  largely  to  spread  the 
area  of  civilization  and  to  diffuse  ideas  of  order,  wealth,  and  comfort. 
Trance  was  not  ruined  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century,  which 
had  been  an  era  especially  remarkable  for  activity  and  enterprise  in 
civil  and  religious  building  to  meet  requirements  until  then  unknown. 
It  was  not  embarrassed  by  the  unusual  expenditure,  because  the 
monuments  erected  represented,  not  an  indefinable  desire  for  pom- 
pous display,  but  a distinct  and  tangible  idea,  and  were  constructed  to 
fulfil  exactly  certain  serious  and  actual  requirements.  Their  degree 
of  richness  Avas  in  proportion  to  their  destination,  and  it  \A'as  impos- 
sible then  to  mistake  a palace  for  a hospital,  or  a town  hall  for  a 
princely  residence.  The  forms  of  architecture  Avere  the  product  and 
visible  manifestation  of  the  necessities  of  the  time.  In  a Avord,  the 
art  Avas  flexible  to  all  the  practical  and  æsthetical  uses  of  building, 
Avas  comprehended  by  all,  and  not  a mere  conventional  formula,  with 
Avhicli  the  public  could  have  no  sympathy  and  in  which  the  available 
resources  of  the  time  found  no  natural  expression.  It  accommodated 
itself  readily  to  the  prevailing  customs,  and,  free  in  all  its  develop- 
ments, had  not  yet  learned  to  confine  itself  in  a strait-jacket  of 
unreasonable  and  inexplicable  conventionalities. 


THE  END. 


University  Press,  Cambridge:  Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  & Co. 


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